The Eighth Year
by kateofallpeople
Summary: My take on this. HG and DM in Head student quarters, Harry finds solace in a strange place, Ron goes mad, a handsome young new DADA prof. we already know, and a very interesting year for our friends! HG/DM HP/? GW/? LL/? RW/? Lots of odd couples! COMPLETE
1. Prologue

**AN: Here I am, drinking lukewarm green tea. And I have been contemplating exactly which story it was to work on today: the Dramione? The George/Luna? Maybe try and start on the OC/Harry that I could not continue for the life of me last week. Instead, I decided to scrap each of those ideas and start on the poll-winner, The Eighth Year. I KNOW. It's been done a million times before, and I KNOW, there's enough Dramione being shoved into everyone's heads already. HOWEVER. I have quite a few interesting little bits to this story that you haven't seen before. It's going to have a few different levels to it. Of course, Dramione romance. Then some Ron darkness, and some struggling. Harry is going to find solace in a very surprising partner, and that can only mean interesting things for the-boy-who-lived-a-billion-times. A significant plot twist towards the end threatens Hermione's happiness, and her continuation at school. If this goes well, it'll be probably fifteen chapters, if it doesn't, I won't hesitate to scrap the whole thing and re-write it under a few different conditions. The only reason I'm doing this for this story is because it's a wayyy overused idea, and I have plenty more original ones sitting around waiting to escape. Alright. So, these are the longest notes ever, BUT. I've basically already given you a nice description. So that's taken care of. Alright. Enjoy! **

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* * *

**Harry Potter sat at the kitchen table of the Burrow. It had been almost two months since the end of the war, and he'd spent every waking minute enjoying a painless scar on his forehead. He sipped at his tea and sighed. He'd be starting Auror training soon, but for some reason it did not feel as significant as it had before the war, before he'd defeated Voldemort. Where was the final goal? What was there to defend against? He picked up the paper, and set it down again. News of Voldemort's defeat was gone, but the trickle of articles that followed had not - "accurate" recounts of the event, "accurate" mini biographies of important figures involved - all of course, by the pesky nitwit Rita Skeeter. The paper was barely worth reading most days now, besides a clip or so of Kingsley Shacklebolt building the new regime of Wizard equality. Again, he sighed. Ron was just coming down the stairs now, at almost eleven. Molly was in the garden, Arthur at work. Ginny was off somewhere else, and Hermione would be arriving to stay for a few weeks, in just a few minutes. As he reminded Ron of this, the ginger quickly retreated back upstairs to ready himself. Harry rolled his eyes, he'd never seen his best friend even remotely concerned with his appearance until Hermione was mentioned.

Hermione arrived just on time, as usual. The whole of the Weasley family - recent tenant Percy included - gathered in the sitting room to receive her. She threw her arms around everyone in turn, spouting stories of her summer and her family and friends back home. She spent the most time connected to Ron, of course, and Harry groaned audibly when he realized he would be losing his best friends to each other very soon. At least they were happy. Ginny had joined the group, and she managed to sneak her way around the circle so as to be standing next to him. This was his first happy moment of the day, as he dropped his arms from being folded and non-chalantly grabbed her hand. He could catch her smiling out of the corner of his eye, and that made him feel better already.

* * *

The next day was July fifteenth. The golden trio, plus Ginny, Percy, and George, had spent many afternoons playing quidditch and attempting to find new things to do after the war. It felt as if time had stood still for all - now that there was no fight, what was going to happen to those who fought?

After a particularly long lunch, the group settled around the kitchen table. Another long afternoon awaited them, and quite frankly, any new switch in play would have been greatly appreciated. What they received, however, was more than they bargained for. Within minutes, there were scratches on the window. Expecting fan mail, as they'd been receiving quite a few letters of thanks and appreciation in the past months, Hermione tossed the letters, all tied together, onto the table. The owl pecked her hand affectionately and flew off. Once they'd stopped moving, however, they fell silent. This was not fan mail. Far from it. Ron untied the package and passed out the letters.

"Ginerva, of course... but also Harry... myself... Hermione... I don't understand."

The problem with the letters, unexpectedly, being that they were all from Hogwarts.

* * *

_Mr Harry Potter  
The Attic Bedroom  
The Burrow  
Ottery St. Catchpole_

_Dear Mr Potter_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary supplies and equipment. Term begins September first. We await your owl by no later than July thirty-first. _

_Yours Sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Headmistress_

_PS: Harry, please read the enclose letter. I'm sure this is a bit of a surprise for you, but I hope it explains enough for you. I look forward to seeing you at the start of term. _

* * *

_Harry, Hermione, and Ron:_

_I am guessing that the arrival of this letter must come as a bit of a shock to each of you. However, it is in my personal opinion, and in the Minister's as well, that the last year of education at Hogwarts lacked substance and any learning at all. Students are being required to return to Hogwarts to repeat this last year of schooling and take part in the vital learing they missed under the Carrows, or in your case, because you were on the run and on the way to defeating Voldemort. You three, as well as your other classmates in your year, will be returning as Seventh Years. Ginny and Luna will be returning as Sixth years, and so on. Kingsley Shacklebolt and myself are quite aware that most will not be happy with this decision, but hope that in time people will come to realize that it was a necessary step in the magical education of these children. I'm sure you can guess, by this time, that it means that there will be twice as many first years, in a technical sense, the repeaters from last year and this year's new set. I hope, for everyone's sake, that this all turns out nicely, but I'd really prefer that the three of you be on your best behavior. _

_Thank You in Advance,  
Prof. McGonagall  
Headmistress_

_

* * *

_It was, in fact, as if McGonagall herself had jumped from the envelopes and stunned them all personally. Ginny tossed her letter down on the table and left. "I _hated_ sixth year classes..."

Ron simply gaped, Hermione seemed to be panicking about classes and books already, whispering names of books Harry had never even heard of to no one in particular.

Harry spoke first. "You do know what this means, then? Oh, and apparently I'm Quidditch Team Captain again. Wonderful."

Ron nodded. Hermione, shocked from her early preparations, nodded as well. "Yes, Harry. It means we're going back to Hogwarts. And I... I've been made Head Girl."

Ron finally opened his mouth for more than drooling. "And I'm a prefect again. Harry. What's going to happen?"

Harry took a deep breath and rubbed at his scar. Though it had not pained him since he defeated Voldemore, he still took comfort in remembering that it was there.

"We're going to go back to Hogwarts." He looked up at his best friends. "For an Eighth Year."

* * *

Days later, they were in Diagon Alley.

Ron, chewing a piece of what was from a very large bag of sweets, smiled. "It's weird, you know? Shopping for school things again. But, well, I kind of like it."

Hermione was already busy with books. She would, of course, have a full schedule for NEWTs, and had too much to think about to participate in normal conversation.

"I s'pose so. It's just strange." Harry squinted slightly, looking at the crowds around him. He spotted several more students with lists and letters of their own, each of them with the same puzzled expression as himself. They were quickly rejoined by Ginny, then by Luna and Neville.

Harry caught a short glimpse of a certain platinum haired Slytherin. His head was down, and he was walking alongside his mother, head hung as well. There were no chins up in the Malfoy family after all, but Harry, in his own nature, felt a little sorry for them. All in all, Draco had only done most of the things he'd done because Voldemort had forced him to, threatening his family after Draco had to take over for his father as a Death Eater. He had not, after all, killed Dumbledore. He had done some terrible things, yes, but in that moment, Harry realized that maybe it wasn't Draco at all, it was simply how he was brought up. Keeping his possibly absurd thoughts to himself, he pretended not to see, joining his friends for a nice break for lunch.

Ron and Ginny, perhaps, had the most fun that day. Because of Ron's efforts in the war and the takedown of Voldemort, the Ministry, under Shacklebolt's orders, paid everyone who fought a hefty sum of money, especially The Golden Trio. He's been buying top-of-the-line supplies all day, and his arms were full of bags of what he deemed "Necessary Investments" from various shops, almost none of which actually related to the task at hand - school shopping. They'd had to buy all new cauldrons, potions supplies, books, parchment, quills. They'd gotten rid of all these things before they'd left on their journey, thinking they'd never need them again. Harry grinned slightly when he realized they'd been wonderfully, hilariously wrong. He'd be returning to Hogwarts after all - his home. His worries of his future were put on hold, at least for a year - his thoughts about useless Auror training, no goals, no bigger picture, were over. He'd have a nice, long, 10 month school year to figure all of that out.

* * *

That night, the entire Weasley family (minus Charlie, who was back in Romania) plus Harry and Hermione squashed in around the table for dinner. They further speculated on the terms of their returning to Hogwarts - What would happen if they didn't return? Who would be teaching Transfiguration and DADA? And who in the world would be placed as Head Boy?

Before bed, the trio sat in Ron's bedroom and wondered even further. The entire concept was still a shock to them, but it was nothing compared to the whirlwind of a year they had ahead of them.

* * *

**AN: Prologue - check. Chapter One posted soon? Possibly tonight. As I've been writing, new opportunities for crazy things to happen throughout the year have been popping into my head - the new teachers, changes around school, bringing smaller characters into the bigger scene - and I have to say it's going to be quite interesting. Some people might think a few of my ideas are a little strange, but that's kind of the point of FanFiction, isn't it? **


	2. Beginnings

**AN: Here I am, for a second time in 24 hours. Sweet. I've been getting great reviews on my stories lately, and it's been inspiring me to keep updating all the time - I've quickly discovered that it does take a toll on one's personal life when she posts almost 10,000 words in a day, though, so out of four stories, expect two of them to be updated each day. Maybe. Or maybe I'll just live online? I haven't quite decided yet. If ever there was a cave to live online, FFnet would certainly be the best cave of all. Sort of like Hagrid hid in, in the 7th book... remember that? It would have to be big enough to fit Hagrid and Grawp. Anyway. Here's chapter two. I think what you read here will surprise you. More than anything, you're going to think it's weird, and that the pairings are weird, and if you decide to spit on me or flame or something, I almost wouldn't mind. Please don't flame though. Or spit. That's just nasty. However, I think that you will find that there are very few pairings such as the ones contained here, besides Dramione. I'm not trying to set any ships to sail, I'm simply having fun with a twisted little version of the eighth year that sits inside my head. Please don't hate me, though if some of you do, and some of you love this, I wouldn't mind. I like that sort of thing best. You're in for a long chapter!**

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* * *

**It was already almost eleven. The platform was packed full of students waiting to board the train that would take them to a most interesting year at Hogwarts. Harry watched as Hermione checked her watch. No matter how many times she looked at her wrist, though, time never seemed to move. Fifteen minutes. Then fourteen. "Oh, bloody hell." The boys flanking her on either side, Ron and himself, seemed absolutely apalled at this outburst.

"Hermione..." a piece of food fell from Ron's mouth. It showed a true testament to her loyalty that she did not laugh. "...I don't think I've ever heard those words come from your mouth." He smirked slightly. "But I kind of liked it..." his far-off gaze was broken when she swatted him over the head with a Newspaper. And it was a testament of Harry's loyalty that at this, he did not laugh. Not too hard, anyway. The rest of the "Eighth Years", as they were being called, were all huddled awkwardly around them. Each of them was equally as surprised, and nervous, and absolutely unaware of what was to become of them. Hermione checked her watch once more as a voice came over the speakers, completely inaudible. "I do hope that whoever they've made Head Boy is at least tolerable... I won't stand for anything less. I'd rather give it up entirely and settle on being a prefect again. Harry, Ron and I have to go..." Harry stopped her. "Yeah, the Prefects carriage. I know. I remember."

Once the minutes finally started ticking by - it was 10:54 now - the trio hugged the Weasley family and boarded. Harry watched with a mixture of sadness and something else as he watched his friends and fellow students hugging their family members goodbye. As he looked at his friends, however, he grinned. For all intents and purposes, this was his family now. And he realized that something else was a good thing. Once boarding the train, he set off immediately to find a compartment, either empty so his friends could all join him, or full of friends already waiting. The latter happened. While Hermione and Ron rushed as fast as they could without looking suspicious, Ron knocked on glass and found the eyes of three people he loved most dear - more members in his own family.

The first was Ginny Weasley. He loved her, as he hadn't quite told her yet. She smiled at him and waved him over to sit beside her. He breathed in her scent - cinnamon, and sandalwood, and vetiver - and the spicy aroma immediately brought back memories from long nights spent at the Burrow, doing lots of talking or no talking at all. She gave him the window seat and curled up against him, sighing. "You have no idea. Luna and I thought we'd have to brave this year alone. But now you're back..."

Harry ruffled her hair, just slightly. "You'll still have to do without me next year, for _your_ Eighth Year. It sounds ridiculous, just saying it."

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see another of his friends nodding. The tall boy with the toad made a humming noise while he did so. "Mhmm. It is strange. I was just telling Gran that I'm glad they did it though... we didn't learn much except how to tolerate the Cruciatus Curse, and that's not worth too much anymore..." He grinned a lopsided smile and seemed to stare up at a scarred patch just above his eye, though he obviously could not see it. "Got that one from falling on the stone floor. Alecto's work. Harry, my boy, we match." The compartment laughed. Just listening to Neville Longbottom, things had changed since that last battle. He was charismatic. He was funny. And he was not nearly as forgetful. But if one actually looked at him, they'd see it as well. Harry was not an expert on this subject, but he suspected that the fourth-year girls walking by the compartment were. They pointed inside, whispered at each other, giggled, and sighed. Neville smirked again, pleased with himself. "That's been happening too, did you know that?" Harry might have known why. Neville appeared to have lost nearly all of the extra weight on him. Whereas before he might have looked "comfortable", now he looked "rugged", with a smattering of odd scars improving on the fact. Harry was impressed when he lifted a rather large box back up onto the overhead - one he would have had to use magic for himself.

He heard a giggle from a corner. Just inside the door, sitting on the floor - which would be why he did not notice her - was a rather peculiar girl. Curly blonde hair, perfect ivory skin, and large, almost mesmerizing blue-gray eyes. She'd matured in the past few months - even Harry was not blind to that - and yet she still held a Quibbler upside down, Spectrespecs perched low on her nose. "Luna. Quibbler still printing then?"

She almost seemed to have not heard him, but abruptly put down the magazine and looked up at Harry. She stood then, and in a strange moment, walked over and touched his scar, just once. "Are you done hurting then?" Her spectrespecs shifted colors in the light, but he could still see her own eyes behind them as she slowly studied his face, a look of deep concentration covering her features.

Harry, comfortable with Luna's usual antics but slightly uncomfortable now, looked around. They shrugged. "Errm, yes. It hasn't hurt since then."

She smiled then, and it was brilliant. "Good." She returned to her seat on the floor, though there were plenty left on the benches, and giggled once more, picking up her Quibbler.

The train began moving. The passengers waved goodbye to their family and friends, and Harry made an unexpected seventh journey to Hogwarts.

* * *

"You will not _believe... _Harry? _HARRY? _You've got to hear this. It's ridiculous. I'm going to die."

He heard Hermione almost ten full seconds before he saw her, an indication that she'd been yelling quite loudly from the complete opposite end of the train car. When she finally entered the compartment, Harry could see that Ron had his arm around her waist, and he seemed to be supporting her. He looked up in hope at his best friend, who simply shook his head. "It's bad, Harry. Really bad. I'm worried for my own self."

Hermione looked at Ron, not bothering to get him back for that last statement. She then looked at Neville and Luna, smiling slightly, and then Ginny, and finally at Harry. "Harry. I can't even do anything."

"Hermione, you're beginning to scare me. What's wrong?" Ginny, partially asleep anyway, settled down onto the seat after he easily pushed her off of him, standing to meet Hermione. Ginny stirred but said nothing, setting her head back down.

Hermione took a few deep breaths in before finally murmuring something inaudibly.

"What was that?"

"It's Malfoy."

"Well yeah, I know, he's quite a prat, but..."

"No. Not just in general. Harry... he's Head Boy."

It took Harry a moment to process the information. He remembered seeing the blonde in Diagon Alley not too long ago, and realizing that there was something different about him. He felt that this was not the best time to mention this to Hermione, however, as doing so might provoke her to throw him right off the train to his death.

"And what happened?"

"I asked Professor McGonagall to make a switch... I'd go back to being a prefect, or something, but as the candidate in the oldest year, I have no choice. She told me I could possibly send a female Gryffindor prefect in my place every once in a while if I couldn't handle it, though she said she thought there wouldn't be a problem... and when I asked her who the Head of House was to find out if I could do anything about _that_, she told me she couldn't even tell me who that was yet!" Hermione was absolutely fuming now. Harry had only seen her this mad once before - when Ron had finally come back after leaving them the year previous in the forest. This was scary.

"Couldn't tell you? Why not?" Harry was truly confused now.

"I don't know. She said there would be an announcement at the feast and that nobody was to know until then... she wouldn't even tell me who would be taking her place teaching Transfiguration, or who would be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts! I don't know what's gone wrong. Harry. Help me."

Ron sat her down and rubbed her back, petting her hair. She cried. Harry, however, could do nothing. And so he told her that.

"Hermione... I can live through a Killing Curse. I can defeat Voldemort. But I cannot reverse McGonagall's decision to make Draco the Head Boy. I can't."

She sniffled. "Oh, I knew you'd say that." Ron cast her a glance. She glared. "Well, something like it, anyway. Fine. But there had better be a cart close to our compartment now with loads of sweets. I need something. Anything." At this, the whole compartment laughed - besides Ginny, still sleeping like a baby.

* * *

There wasn't a hum in the Great Hall. It was more like a roar. Not only was it like having all seven years of students in the room together, it was having an extra year of them together as well. Pudding had just appeared, and Hermione was already filling her plate with more than all of them knew she could handle. She glared at anyone who looked as if they might mention that. Luna, strange as ever, had abandoned her Ravenclaw table in favor of the Gryffindor. She got quite a few stares from new first years, when she ambled over in her blue and bronze things, but nobody seemed to mention anything, as her famous lion hat sat perched atop her head already. The group was still silent, even before McGonagall called the room to attention. There were two empty chairs - one where Snape had previously sat as DADA teacher, and one where McGonagall herself had sat while teaching transfiguration. Harry wondered who would fill those seats. But his question would soon be answered. McGonagall stood for her speech.

"I'm really no good at this... Dumbledore was so much better... anyway. Welcome, students. Whether you be returning, or the youngest first year. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, or Hufflepuff. Whether you are in the best of spirts or the worst. Some of you are in wonder - yes, first years, that's you - at all of the strange and wonderful things about to happen. You're beginning your magical education. It's a journey, I can tell you that. And yet others are in wonder as to why they might be spending an Eight Year here - an even longer journey than expected, I suppose.

The war is finally over. There were many who fought bravely in this castle and lost their lives for the sake of all that is good. And there are some who fought for the other side, and yet their children and family members remain here to learn, the same as any of you.

My point here is this - the war has affected each of us in different ways. We have lost many we knew and loved - many of them within these very walls - and this is something that should bring us together. Children of former Death Eaters, a former Death Eater himself - a very changed one, I might add - and then of course, those who directly had a hand in the downfall of Voldemort." She gave a little nod in the direction of the Gryffindor table, many heads turned in the way of Harry and his friends, who simply nodded or waved, as they'd become accustomed to in the previous months. "There were many involved in the war, and many affected by it. And it is under this common bond, that we will unite to no longer classify ourselfs solely as students in Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw, Slytherin or Gryffindor, but as Students of Hogwarts School of Withcraft and Wizardry."

The room thundered with applause, and McGonagall beamed. It was a short speech, but it was all she had. She quieted the room once more as she began to move on with announcements.

"Alright, alright. Thank you _very_ much, I do appreciate it. That was a bit nerve-wracking... anyway. I have some announcements to make in changes of staff. First of all, you will notice that there are two empty chairs. One I look fondly upon, as it was my own. The new professor for Transfiguration is a new member of the team, per se, in that she never even went to Hogwarts. I'd like you all to welcome Delores-" many in the room audibly gasped, "-Rowe." The door opened at the back of the room, and a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties, with a rather large feather in her hair, came to shake hands with the new Headmistress before sitting in her own chair. Hermione let out a breath. "She looks pleasant enough. I almost thought-"

The applause stopped again as McGonagall held up a hand. "Also - Madam Hooch has retired. She served Hogwarts for a number of years and after the war has decided to move elsewhere, and sends her warmest wishes to you all."

Harry applauded with a pang. Hooch had taught him how to first fly, she'd taught him how to kick off that very first time, before he'd raced after Malfoy for Neville's Remembrall...

Again, her hand went up. Which leaves flying lessons and Defense Against the Dark Arts up to our newest professor - and our youngest ever. I personally selected him originally to teach flying lessons, but after he expressed an interest in the other teaching lesson as well, I had no choice but to hire this outstanding Hogwarts graduate. In fact, I had no choice but to name him the new Head of Gryffindor house, as well! He should be coming in any second now, if he's only not run into more trouble..."

A few moments pause, and the hall had fallen completely silent. McGonagall cleared her throat. "Well, he'll be properly introduced tomorrow then..."

The door flew open once more, and a very young man, not much older than Harry himself, came striding through. There was definitely something familiar about this new professor, but he couldn't quite place it until...

"Oh, there you are. Students and staff, I'd like you all to welcome Oliver Wood."

The older members of the Gryffindor table exploded into cheers - he'd been Quidditch captain, and Harry thought to himself that Wood was perhaps the only person he could stand to see take Madam Hooch's place, along with Snape's. He heard Luna from a few places over, give a loud whistle, and then a comment - "I quite liked him, I'm glad he's back. Perhaps I might do better in DADA now..." Harry laughed at this, and no one else seemed to share the joke. Luna waved at him after she'd realized he'd heard her. They grinned.

"Now that that has all been settled, I bid you all goodnight. It has been a long day for all of us, and I for one need a full nights sleep... off to bed. Oh, also, could the Head students and Heads of houses meet me here, please. Thank you."

Chatter immediately filled the hall as students stole a last bit of pudding before being lead upstairs by their prefects. Ron, who was robbed of his last bites, called out loud to the Gryffindors.

"Oi! You lot in the red!" This was received by much laughter from the full table. "Come on then! It's the longest journey on earth to the dormitories, I don't want to be old and moldy by the time we get up there... let's move!" His friends laughed at their friends typical behavior - leave it to Ron to let his personality shine through on a group of impressionable new first years. Hermione shrugged, mentioned something to Harry about a few good surprises after all, and tried her hardest to get upstream to McGonagall at the high table. Harry nodded to Neville, Dean, and Seamus, who followed him upstairs. Ginny disappeared soon after, and Harry smiled as he realized that he'd have plenty of time to see her this year.

* * *

When Hermione arrived at the dormitories almost an hour later, Ron's voice was already hoarse, but everyone except the Eighth Years were in bed. "It's incredible. You have no idea."

"What are you talking about? What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything. I'd forgotten completely about one major detail when I realized I'd been made Head Girl - I won't be sleeping in the Gryffindor dormitories any longer. It's sad, really, I've always been here. I'll get to visit of course, but..."

"So where do you sleep?" Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

"In the Head Student quarters."

"In normal people terms?"

"There are quarters hidden in the castle somewhere, they'll only just show us tonight... it's a large sitting room, with two bedrooms and separate private bathrooms connected to it. I'll be in my own room. And I'll have my own bath."

"But doesn't that mean you'll be sharing living space with Malfoy?" And why did Hermione not seem to mind?

"Well, only the sitting room. But I'll have two places all to myself. It's going to be really nice, supposedly."

"Well, alright then..." Ron snorted.

"I've only just come back to tell you that, and to tell you a little more about what's going to happen... scoot in closer, this is top secret information..."

"Yeah, as if McGonagall expects _us_ to keep anything _secret." _The group laughed at Neville's comment and then listened to Hermione launch into details about the new Transfiguration professor, and the return of Oliver Wood, and about the strange Eighth Year ahead of them...

* * *

**AN: Woo! Alright, pretty long chapter... after these first few obviously, once everything is explained, they'll start to have a larger time frame, but there's SO much that you need to know right now, it's ridiculous. Haha. I love the twisted little world of things happening inside my head... you have no idea. Bwahaha. I like this quite a bit. Sorry to torture you. But it really is that strange. Anyway. Hope you enjoyed! The strangeness hasn't even really begun, just the new professors... eh? Alright. I'm done. I think. Review. Thanks. Bye. **


	3. Beginnings Part 2

**AN: Hello! Well, I have to say that I'm here updating so quickly because I'm in love with the ideas in my head. For a while, they were all just bouncing around like mad, but this is the first story I've actually had to draw up a plan for. I did so last night, and I can say, the resulting flow chart made even my organized self laugh. It's ridiculous. It's hilarious. It's bound to confuse and amuse you. And I love it. I do have a little something else to add, the POV is going to change quite a bit, but I'll always start the new section with the name of the person, like "Harry was..." or "Luna didn't...." etc. There are lots of funny things going on, and it's going to be kind of like that movie "He's Just Not That Into You" in the way that while it is a Dramione, it's also about a few other strange couples. Here's a longish chapter. Sorry things have been slow, after this, it's going to be like one chapter = two weeks in the timeline. Enjoy this super long chapter!**

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* * *

**_Hermione's POV_

"...and I think that's it."

Ron stared, incredulous. "That's it? What do you mean, that's it? You're going to be in a dormitory with Malfoy. You're Head Girl. Oliver Wood is back as DADA Professor. We have a new Transfiguration professor, a new Headmistress, a storm of new first years, no Voldemort, and _that's it? _"

She blinked before nodding. "Yes. I think I've covered it all."

Ron groaned and fell back into his chair. "I don't believe it..."

Harry, who had been listening intently but not actively, turned to Hermione. "I think it'll all work out. The Head Boy thing."

Hermione seemed to contemplate it for a moment. "Possibly. You did hear what McGonagall said about him in her speech, I assume... actually, I'll assume you didn't. Shame on me for trying. But she said 'a very changed one, I might add' when she mentioned a 'former death eater', and Malfoy is the only one who fits the description, really. I wonder how she'd know..." Hermione drifted off in her own thought for a moment before jumping back to reality. Right, well, I really must be going. I suppose I'll see you all in the morning. Goodnight." She grabbed her bag and left, hurrying out the portrait hole to this new mystery.

- - - - -

When she arrived back in the Entrance Hall as ordered, Malfoy was already waiting, leaning against a wall with one foot up, as usual. His arms were crossed and he had an absolutely puzzling expression on his face. Hermione came to stand a few feet from him. "Malfoy."

"Granger. How was your summer?"

"Do you care?"

"Possibly. We're going to have to deal with this, you know."

"I suppose."

"I know you tried to get out of it."

Hermione blushed. She'd been caught trying to avoid seeing him.

"Well, yes. But can you blame me."

He chuckled to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Not at all. Not at all. I would've done the same against myself, really."

"And you didn't do the same against me?"

"No. I learned you were Head Girl when I first got my letter. McGonagall explained that she hadn't told you yet because she was afraid you wouldn't even show up if she told you earlier."

They laughed, and then fell silent. It was strange, sharing a joke with Malfoy. She could not give in this easily.

"She was probably right, anyway. And I would have had every reason to." She turned away pointedly, crossing her arms across her chest. He turned towards her.

"Yeah. You would have every reason to."

Hermione blinked again. She hadn't expected him to agree with any of this. Before, Draco had been almost as stubborn as Ron, but worse - he was also completely full of himself. Now though, something _had_changed, as the new Headmistress had mentioned. He was almost cordial, and his agreement with her dislike of him was very curious indeed. Almost on Cue, McGonagall herself strode around the corner, smiling slightly. "Ah, I see you've found each other. Very well, let's move on then." She lead them upstairs to the second floor, towards her own office, and then down a long, thing corridor neither of the students had ever noticed before. "The quarters are just through here... you'll have to change the passwords yourselves, every few days or so. In here then -" The portrait was of a knight, and Hermione recognized the character at once...

"Sir Cadogan? Oh, my."

McGonagall chuckled slightly. "We had to move him after an altercation last year involving a number of very lost first years who didn't make it to the entire first week of classes... he'll be simply guarding your dormitories now. Sir Cadogan?"

"Oh, fair lady, how might I assist you today?"

"We just need in, Sir. The password is Albus, for today."

"Then I shall grant you entrance. And if you ever need me again, just call!"

"Of course. Come this way, you two."

Immediately inside was a sitting room large enough for the two of them to be comfortably far apart. Roughly forty feet long, and thirty feet wide, a large fireplace was set on one end, and there were various tables and chairs and couches arranged around the room. "Now Hermione, you'll sleep upstairs and to the right. Draco, to the left. I'm afraid I have much to attend to, so I must leave you here. I'll see you both in the morning." She left the two alone.

"We're going to have to deal with this eventually."

"You've already said that."

"I'm aware. Just reiterating. Goodnight, Granger."

* * *

For Ron, as well as many others, the next weeks would be a blur. Students rushed to their new classes, met their new professors, and dealt with their crazy new year at school. His school year, however, started off kind of strange. He woke his first morning feeling as if maybe this school year wasn't going to be particularly great after all. He packed his school bag and headed into the halls to find the new Gryffindor head of house, Oliver Wood, and settle his schedule. He was supposed to be taking four classes, and while he'd been elated when he'd only been signed up for three, he knew he'd have to find another. "Oi. Wood. I need another class."

The tall, young professor nodded at Ron. "Alright then, come on over. I just have to sign off on this one..." He signed a piece of paper and handed it back to a younger student, "Okay. You're missing a class?"

"Yeah. I need to take four. I've only got three."

"Let's see... Potions, Defense with me, and Charms. You could take Arithmancy?"

Ron shook his head. "Nah. I'm not looking for anything hard. Just... something."

"There should be room in Transfiguration. And Rowe is really nice, you'd like her."

"I'll take it then. She'll be the only professor who doesn't already know I'm hopeless with magic."

"Then she'll learn soon enough." Wood filled in the schedule and handed it back to Ron with a smile and a nod. "I'll see you around then. I imagine you'll be playing for the House Team as well?" Ron nodded. "Excellent. I can't believe I'm going to be referee..." he trailed off with a laugh and walked farther down the hall, assisting students. Ron turned and walked to the Transfiguration classroom, alone. Harry had already gone to another class, and Hermione was... well, he didn't quite know where his girl was. He stepped in the door to find only fifteen or so seventh and eighth year students, wondering aloud to each other what might happen with the new professor. Ron slipped into a seat next to Dean Thomas, who immediately filled him in on some of the most absurd stories he'd been hearing and asked him about his summer. Before Ron could answer, however, the newest addition to Hogwarts staff stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"Hello, everyone." She was graceful, and beautiful. From this closer distance, Ron could see that she looked even younger than he'd previously thought. Her straight raven colored hair fell halfway down her back, and again there was a feather tucked behind her ear. Today it was the most magnificent shade of blue, and it emphasized her dark blue eyes.

"In case you were sleeping during the opening, I'm Professor Rowe. I was taught at home as a child, as it was during Voldemort's- " half of the class gasped, they apparently still were shocked by the name " -uprising. I took my OWLs and NEWTs here though. I'm the second youngest member of Hogwarts staff, Professor Wood is 22 and he's got me beat by two years. You do the math." Ron did. She was 24. "I lived in Devon for most of my life, then set off across Europe to home teach young witches and wizards who were ill or too frail to attend school. McGonagall snatched me up in the middle of Summer in Italy. And here I am. Now, Transfiguration is..."

Ron paid almost no attention to the rest of her lecture. While she was telling the class about the advanced techniques they'd be learning that year, he was noticing that her hair was so shiny, and that it fell in a certain way sometimes that was quite nice. While she was telling them some of the things they'd be transfiguring soon, he was noticing that while she wore no makeup, her long dark lashes and perfectly rosy cheeks created the illusion that she might have been. When class finally ended, Ron silently swept out the door. Maybe Transfiguration wasn't such a great idea.

* * *

Harry stepped into the Gryffindor common room that night feeling exhausted. He had a full schedule this year, and he started to wonder if feeling like this all the time was the reason Hermione was so crabby sometimes. Speaking of which, he was slightly surprised to see her curled up in a chair by the fire, reading. He pulled a small chaise lounge up next to her and laid back. "'Mione. How was your first day?"

"Fine. I've got a full schedule, so I'm tired. I hear you're taking a full class load too?"

"Yeah. Now I get why you're like you are." She swatted him with her book. He laughed.

"Really though, Harry, I'm surprised. I expected you to only take three or four classes. But you're one of the only eighth years taking all five."

"Yeah, I just figured it might help me figure out what I'd like to do..."

"I thought you were going to be an Auror?"

"Well, I was, but... it seems kind of pointless now. I originally got the idea to do it because they were the force trying to take down Voldemort. But I've already done that, haven't I? And of course there are still dark wizards, but... it doesn't seem as important I guess."

The silence between them was significant. For once, Hermione had no idea what to say. It had always been her best friend's greatest ambition to become an Auror, but she could see his point. She settled for changing to sit next to him on the chaise, leaning on his shoulder. He put an arm around her and they talked about other things for a while - people's reactions to the war, what Hermione had heard about the test they would be taking at the end of the year, Hermione dealing with Draco - "He's actually being quite nice! I don't understand it, but I don't hate it..." - the new professors, quidditch...

Ginny Weasley sat less than thirty feet away. She watched silently as Harry - her boyfriend - talked for a long time to Hermione Granger. The two girls had never been on a friendly term, per se, more of an acquaintance because her brother was in love with Hermione. At the moment though, Ginny felt bitter resentment towards the other girl. Harry hadn't even come looking for Ginny. He'd seen Hermione and gone straight towards her. It had been nearly two hours after Dinner, and Harry hadn't come to see her at all. In that moment, something snapped in Ginny Weasley. She closed her book and set it down beside her. Harry had been doing this for a long time - pushing Ginny off of him on the train, sitting with her the whole first night while she told her stories about being Head Girl already. Ginny stood and walked the short distance to where the two were sitting, determined to get Harry to come over with her. Her intentions changed, however, as Granger said something that made Harry laugh harder than he'd ever laughed for Ginny. This wasn't going to work. She tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh, Hey Gin... we've just been talking about everything. Where have you been?"

"Just over there. Harry, can I talk to you?"

"Sure... just give me two seconds, 'Mione was just telling me about something Draco said..."

"No, this is important."

Harry's face fell and he retracted his arm from Hermione's waist, standing to walk with Ginny. She did not, as she usually did, hold out her hand for him to grab, and when this happened, he knew something was wrong. Really wrong. She walked him around a small dark corner.

"Harry... things have changed."

"What do you mean? Gin, what's going on?"

"I feel like... things aren't the same between us. Since the war, actually. I just think that maybe we're not the same people we were."

"Ginny, what are you talking about? We're the same people. I'm Harry, you're you. Weren't you just curled up against me yesterday? Didn't you just kiss me before Dinner? I don't understand."

"I know you don't. I'm sorry. But I just think... maybe it would be better if we ended things."

"What?"

"I know this is a lot to take in, but it's for the best, Harry. It really is."

He did not nod. He didn't know what to do at all. Ginny was breaking up with him. After all these years of trying to be together, after their blissful summer at the Burrow, she was breaking up with him. Ginny walked away, sitting down and returning to her book. He stood in the dim corner for a moment, gaping. This could not be happening. In a moment though, things changed. Harry was no longer as shocked, he was angry. He was the same person! She was the one who had changed! Everything was fine until she had to go and leave him, for nothing! He stepped out of the corner and stormed out of the common room, muttering things under his breath. Ginny pretended not to notice when Hermione went running after him, shooting a curious look at Ginny herself. When Harry told her what happened, Hermione was confused, and shocked. She asked if she'd given him a reason, and he told her what Ginny had said. Now Hermione was in a state of anger as well. This did not last too long, however, because the sight of Neville Longbottom, his arm wrapped closely around a pretty seventh year, walking out of the common room and making her laugh, was quite a shocking sight indeed.

* * *

The next day was particularly interesting for Luna Lovegood. She'd been quietly observing the students around her and the change around them. The change around herself was significant as well, she'd been making more and more friends as the day went on, people who commented on her efforts in the war, or her new shoes, or a number of things. During her free period in the afternoon, she decided she might take a walk around the grounds. She'd missed them terribly in the last two months, and there were so many places she wanted to go...

* * *

Oliver Wood was feeling totally nostalgic. He hadn't been at Hogwarts since his seventh year, and the place was changed. Where the war had hit the hardest, there were still slight cracks in the stone walls, left there on purpose to remind the students not of the war itself, but that it had been fought and the worrying was over. He was happy, however, when he'd heard that the eighth years were coming back - he'd been wanting to see Harry and ask about the Quidditch team anyway.

Quidditch - as he thought of it, an idea filled his head. In the past few years, he'd been playing for Puddlemere, but it was nothing like playing at the old, roughed up pitch at Hogwarts. An idea struck him. He could still be a Keeper, he'd just have to charm the quaffles to fly at him. He might also think about charming a few bludgers, for practice...

He walked to the pitch in a hurry. He was grinning, his efforts that day made him feel like he was sneaking around, doing something he shouldn't be. He took out the school set of balls and his wand, and charmed them to come flying at him. He practiced a bit with Quaffles first, and once they seemed to work alright, picked up a bat and started the bludgers. He kicked off and soared around the field, waiting for the small dark ball to come flying at him. When one finally did, he grinned, gripping the bat in his hand. He swung hard and the ball shot off in the other direction, towards the ground. Oliver watched it go, but he was not fast enough to warn the blonde girl walking below him that it was going straight for her head. By the time he'd yelled, it was too late. Luna turned and saw something flying towards her, and then - nothing.

Oliver brought himself down, jumping the last eight feet off his broom and running to where Luna lay on the ground, her things scattered around. He gathered them quickly together - noticing that it was an odd assortment of things - and picked her up, running and carrying her to the hospital wing. Students and teachers alike looked shocked as he sprinted hard until he got there. "Madam Pomfrey! Poppy! A student's been knocked out!" Madam Pomfrey came running from her office, pointing to a bed on which Oliver could put Luna down. He set her down gently, and Madam Pomfrey checked her. "She's still alive, yes, but definitely unconscious. I don't know when she'll regain consciousness. How did this happen?" Wood, embarrassed, told her the story. She shook her head. "No way you could have known, but... still. She's lucky. A full speed bludger to the head can break someone's skull, hers appears to be fine. I'll keep watch on her until she wakes." Madam Pomfrey walked back into her office, recording the incident.

Oliver sat on a chair next to her bed and put his face in his hands, resting on his elbows. He recognized the girl, now that he'd taken time to look at her. He vaguely remembered her wearing a giant charmed lion hat to Quidditch matches, and now she was his student. Her name was Luna Lovegood, and she was quite a peculiar young woman, but always eager to learn and always asking questions. Oliver looked at her once more before standing and walking back to the pitch. He had to put away the quidditch things and head back to his office, there were lessons to be planned. The entire time, he worried about Luna.

* * *

Harry was wandering. He hadn't seen Ginny at all that day, and he was almost glad of it. It might hurt too much to be in her presence. He walked down the corridors of Hogwarts, attempting to calm himself down and feel even a little better. It wasn't working. He went upstairs and down, and finally found a side hallway nobody would be going around at this time of night. He leaned back against the wall and slid down to sit. He liked this place, it was quiet and calm. In a few minutes, Nearly Headless Nick drifted by. "Hello, Harry. Come to be alone?"

"Yeah. Rough day."

"I see. Well, this is a nice place to get away from it all. I do hope things get better for you."

"Thanks Nick." The ghost left, and Harry sat in that place for a long time.

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**AN: Whew. Long one. Anyway. Hope you enjoyed that, it gives a little glimpse into the things that might be changing and happening around Hogwarts. I might update again later tonight! Please review, and check out my other stories! Thanks.**


	4. Late September

**AN: Here I am, last update for the night. I chose to update again on this story because it intrigues me the most. Many interesting things going on. Enjoy!**

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Pansy Parkinson was not pleased. She stood looking in her mirror, and pushed her chin-length hair behind her ears. She hadn't even bothered to do it right today, as she knew that no matter how hard she tried, she would not see Draco. He'd been less and less present over the past week and a half, and she had no idea where he had been going, but she didn't like it. He'd thrown her some excuse about Head Boy duties, which she knew was rubbish. She straightened her school tie and ran her hands over her skirt. Breakfast began in twenty minutes. Maybe she should take the time to do her hair after all...

All the while, she thought about Draco. They'd been very close for a number of years, it would take a blind person to miss that. They'd been affectionate at times, and she always thought there had been something between them. She put on a little makeup, grabbed her things, and left the Slytherin dormitories. She'd actually been excited when she'd gotten the letter to return to Hogwarts. She'd thought she could spend more time with Draco, and maybe push things on to where they should be...

* * *

It was very early, not nearly 7, and Pansy was still sleeping. Draco, however, had his mind running on a completely different wavelength. While Pansy was not pleased, he was finding himself happy with the strangest of things so far. Hermione was Head Girl, and that could be good for them to mend fences. He was taking classes that actually interested him, instead of Charms and Transfiguration and things like that. He combed out his hair, gelling it slightly to keep it in place. When he didn't, his hair sometimes stuck up just as bad as Harry's. That was the other thing - Potter had been courteous the other day, they'd run into each other between classes and they actually said Hello to each other and asked about their summers. Draco had told Harry that his was alright, he wasn't living with his parents any longer, and it had changed things drastically for him. They parted ways, but each time they saw each other now, they nodded towards each other. It was something.

With a smirk, Draco considered the best of things to be that he didn't feel so angry anymore. Before, it had all been about blood status this, money that, but now it was about learning, and changing, and making friends out of enemies. He liked this new change. He liked to think it suited him. McGonagall had come to see him a week after the war to make sure everything was going alright. She'd been very good to him since he left his mother, making sure he was making ends meet and making amends. He was happy that she was Headmistress, and because she'd seen him change, she'd appointed him Head Boy before even thinking about Hermione as Head Girl.

He left his room to find Hermione sitting on a couch. "Oh, Hermione, glad you're up and ready. I kind of need some help."

She set down her book. "Alright. What do you need?"

"It's this Defense essay I can't quite put together... I know what I want to say, but I don't know how to say it."

"Don't tell me you're going to need my help all the time like Harry and Ron."

"Most likely I will. It's still me, after all."

She patted the spot next to her on the couch and flicked her wand, bringing a table across the room in front of them. He sat down beside her, rolling out the parchment.

An hour later, he'd almost entirely finished his essay. Smiling, he got up and put it away. But he came right back.

"Thanks, Hermione. I know you're still not too keen on my being Head Boy and all, but... I think it'll be good. We'll get things done."

She turned and nodded at him, smiling slightly. Saying that Draco Malfoy had changed was an understatement. While she still couldn't forgive _everything_ he'd done, she was slightly less bitter about all the name calling. He sat down beside her again, his own book in hand, and they read, side by side, all morning until it was time for breakfast.

* * *

On another floor, another student was missing breakfast entirely. Luna had still not regained consciousness, and her friends had come by to visit every chance they got. Oliver came by to see her every day, making sure she was still alive, each time hoping that he'd walk in to find her sitting up and drinking soup, or making up school work, or any number of things that did not involve being unconscious. He felt dreadful for putting her in that state, and he felt it was his duty to come see her whenever possible, sometimes staying a length near to an hour, hoping she might open those blue eyes for him.

In the middle of the second week after it happened, Oliver felt something different. When he was just steps from the office doors, he heard singing, and suddenly felt as if he himself could sing. He rounded the corner quickly, stepping inside to find Luna reading the Daily Prophet. She was the only one in the room, and she was singing a rather odd sort of song to herself, loud enough though that he could hear her from twenty feet away. He stepped closer, and she noticed him at last.

"Oh, Professor Wood. How nice of you to drop by. I've been unconscious for a week."

"I know, Luna, I..."

"It's quite cold in here."

He gathered blankets from other beds, setting them down on her own. She smiled. "Thank you very much. Now, what were you saying?" She blinked, and it was like batting her lashes, they were so long and full. It took him a minute to respond.

"I'm the reason you were unconscious."

"Well that's a rather odd sort of musing, but Oliver, I really don't think..."

"No, Luna, I was practicing some old Quidditch things, charmed the balls, I hit a bludger and before I could call out to you, it hit you smack in the head."

"Oh. Well that's a rather interesting way of getting knocked out. Is this the first time you've been by?"

"No..." He did not want to admit that he'd been seeing her daily. "...I've been by before. So have all of your friends, I ran into Harry in here the other day. He doesn't look so well."

"Probably more Wrackspurts, the boy is full of them..." Her dreamy voice trailed off. What were Wrackspurts? They talked for a while about the things she'd missed while she was out, and about schoolwork and everything else. He stayed for ten more minutes, then felt himself feeling strange.

"I suppose... anyway. I'd, uhm, probably should get going... I've a full week of lessons to plan and I haven't even started. Are you coming back to class soon?"

"Very soon. Hopefully tomorrow, if not on Friday."

"Good. Well, I'll see you then." He turned and walked out of the room. She was awake. Good. But why did Oliver feel so strange after leaving? Why did he feel like he couldn't find a thing to say to her? And why couldn't he admit that he'd been by to see her every day?

Puzzled, he locked himself in his office with a goblet of pumpkin juice and too much parchment. Lesson Plans. And Quidditch trials. Right.

* * *

Harry was back in the hallway. He'd been there every night since the first visit, since Ginny had left him with no explanation and a mind full of questions. What had he done wrong? Why was she doing this? He slid down the wall again, his face blank. He had no idea what to do about any of it. He pulled a sweater over his head. It was two, he was using his free period to come here and think. He'd been doing this more lately, instead of just coming at night when he thought he wouldn't be able to sleep without getting away for a while and heading down that hallway. He sometimes brought his homework here, opting for the quiet and privacy of his new place instead of the noisy common room, where Ron would surely ask questions about why he was being so glum, and where Harry might have to tell him that he was so upset because his sister broke up with him. Harry groaned. He'd have to explain the situation to Ron eventually, but at the moment it seemed near impossible.

* * *

Neville Longbottom was in awe. Not only was the pretty fifth year girl flirting with him and hanging off his arm whenever possible, the sixth year Ravenclaw was also sending him signals, as well as a rather pretty seventh year Slytherin. Before the war, he'd never kissed a girl, and recently, he'd found the opportunity quite frequently. He had not, as of yet, acted on any of it, but as time went by, he found the idea more and more intriguing. Tonight, he was going for a walk with the Ravenclaw, and he decided he might do a little digging. They met in the entrance hall.

"Neville! Glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't miss it, Heather. How've you been?"

"Fine, since I last saw you... come on now, let's go for a walk." She offered her arm to him, and he more than willingly took it. They strolled around the ground floor of the castle, chatting about school and friends and other things.

He'd met her on the first day on the train. She had straight, shiny blonde hair and brilliant blue-violet eyes. She'd attracted him since that first minute they both spoke at once, asking the woman who pushed the cart for chocolate frogs at the same time. He bought hers for her, and she smiled at him. They continued talking for a few minutes after that, and she told him she'd see him around. She did, of course, because she'd been searching for him. He was surprised that she'd actually taken the time to find him, and even more surprised when she asked him to see her in a few nights. This was the second time they'd spent time together, alone, and he quite liked it. She had a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose, and when she smiled a crooked little smile at him, he was hooked. On that first night they'd spent time, she told him that she liked him. After an awkward second, she laughed, and then he did, and he admitted he also found himself attracted to her. They'd steal glances at each other frequently at mealtimes, and he would smile down at his plate, trying to still pay attention to whoever was talking around him.

"Heather.. I've just got to ask you one thing."

"What is it?"

"You're going to think it's stupid."

"Probably. Ask me anyway."

"Why do you like me?"

She stopped them. "Well, a few reasons I guess. I assume you're asking this because, well, you weren't exactly Mr Cool last year, am I correct?"

"Yes. I couldn't get most girls to talk to me, let alone tell me they liked me."

"It's a mix of things, I guess." They started walking again. "I first noticed your scar on your eyebrow, and thought it was a particularly cool scar. Then I noticed that you had scars on your arms as well. Then, I noticed your arms were quite defined, and that you were tall. You've got a good smile, and silly, cute hair. And you're not obnoxious or cocky, like most men I know."

"Oh. Alright."

"Is that it then?"

"Yes. We can end the awkward conversation now."

"Alright then, let's talk about something else. How about classes? I am, to be honest, a whiz at Herbology..."

* * *

Ron was sleeping. He did this quite a bit lately. It started on only the third day, when he was exhausted from his first days of class and from the wild other things that had been going on. Then it turned into sleeping from boredom. And now, it had turned into sleeping to avoid reality. He was only awake for meals, classes, and doing his homework - most of which was of terrible quality, as Hermione's visits to the Gryffindor common room had become less and less frequent. He hadn't seen her at all in two days, and it hurt him to see her sometimes in the hallways. She hadn't come looking for him, not once. He didn't know if he'd done something wrong, or if he was supposed to go find her, but he was scared that maybe she didn't want him anymore.

In his sleep, he rolled over, drooling slightly. The other missing person, of course, was Harry. His best friend had been disappearing for a time now, Ron was used to seeing him in the common room after Dinner, but now only saw him for a short while before he left, with one of his many excuses. He'd meant to ask what had been putting him in such a foul mood lately, but he could never remember when he finally saw him. He'd have to remember to do that, next time...

His alarm clock rang. It was time for afternoon classes. He groaned, rolling over to shut it off. Another day.

* * *

Luna had woken up only an hour or so before Oliver had come to see her. She was quite pleased to see her first visitor, and found it almost humorous that it was he that had knocked her out to begin with, even unintentionally. She was starving, and cold, Madam Pomfrey brought her hot soup, and Luna eagerly ate three bowls. She'd just finished the last and grabbed a paper when he'd walked in.

Now, she brushed out her hair and collected the things around her. She'd just been released, a day after she woke up, and was eager to return to her classes and her own bed. There was much work to be made up, but she knew she could handle it all. An essay, two, three, and four, and when Oliver tried to tell her not to worry about work in his own class, she shook her head. She'd do the work, and he couldn't stop her. He made plans with her, grudgingly, to come see him in his office the night she got out, so that he could help her start on her work. She was glad to have something to do, and something to start.

That night after dinner, she grabbed her schoolbag again and headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She walked in, set her things down, and knocked on Oliver's door.

"Yes?"

"Professor, it's me. Luna."

"Right. Right." He cleared his throat. "Come in."

The office was slightly messy, but he'd done it up so that it was cozy. She sat on a large plus couch against the closest wall.

"Sorry the place is a disaster..." He would have liked to say that it was because he'd forgotten they were meeting, but that would be a lie. He chose not to explain at all, opting instead to grab a quill and parchment and sit down beside her. "You missed a load while you were gone. I have two essays for you, one is ten inches and the other is fifteen... they're both on defensive spells and evasive techniques."

"That sounds alright."

They began her essays, Wood helping her with the content and sometimes reading passages straight from the book to help her understand better. She always nodded and smiled. He stood, acting out a certain spell on a stuffed spell practice dummy in the corner, and it immediately fell flat on the ground, as if it had been permanently stuck there by something. She laughed, the little thing looked odd like that. Oliver realized he had been the happiest so far tonight when he'd made her laugh, once with the spell and once because he kept accidentally dropping his quill. After nearly two hours, he dropped it for what was probably the fifteenth time. She laughed again, rolling up her first set of parchment and pulling out the second. He scratched his head, picked up his quill, and sat down again next to her, writing out a simple outline for the second essay. He bit his lip as he wrote. Luna mused about a few things, and then, being her blunt self, said something that made Oliver nearly jump from the seat.

"You know professor... I think I'm allowed to say this because you're young, but you're awfully cute when you're clumsy."

Oliver felt the blood rise to his cheeks. Had Luna - his student - just said he was cute? He remembered vaguely Harry mentioning something to him in the Hospital wing, once when they'd both been there at the same time, about Luna always been honest, almost to a point of humor. He was definitely right at that point.

"Well. Uhm. As we went over in the last essay, the point of this set of spells is to immobilize your opponent..."

When Luna left his office at well past eleven, Oliver let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding all night. They'd started both essays, and she was coming back the next night to work on them a little more, as she was having a bit of trouble with one of them. When she started to leave, she reached up and placed a hand on his face, and he'd felt so strange he couldn't say or do anything. She lowered her hand and seemed to float out the door, leaving nothing behind but a trace scent of lilacs and apples and vanilla. Confused, Oliver headed to his quarters, immediately settling in bed. But for the life of him, he could not sleep. There was definitely something intriguing about Luna Lovegood. He just couldn't quite figure her out.

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**AN: Yay, another update. I'll be back in the morning. I really wish more people read this fic, I quite like it. Anyway, please review, and check out my other things as well. Thanks!**


	5. Early October

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AN: Hello! Here's the next installment of The Eighth Year. I really wish this fic was getting better traffic, but sadly it isn't! Terrible. Anyway, enjoy!

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This was now Harry's fourteenth night in the hallway. He'd been enjoying the solitude, the quiet, the ability to be alone and think and attempt to deal with everything that had happened over the past few months. It wasn't working terribly well, but it was something. He'd sometimes bring his school work there with him, and he found it amazing that it was the one place he could really concentrate on school work. He slid down the wall again, in the same place beneath the same portrait as he'd been sitting for two long weeks. Plenty had probably happened in those two weeks, and he did feel slightly bad about not spending very much time with his friends, but if they knew, they would understand. He hoped.

* * *

Luna Lovegood was stumped. Yes, Professor Wood had helped her greatly in beginning to make up the work she missed while she was in the hospital wing, but she couldn't seem to get the last bit of one essay. She still had nearly four inches to go and absolutely no idea where to continue. She sighed, rolling up the parchment and sticking it in her school bag. She'd have to go and see him after Dinner again and ask for some more help. He did have a way of teaching her things that was completely unrivaled compared to her other teachers...

* * *

"Draco."

Nothing.

"Draco, Wake up. You're going to be late. We have a meeting in half an hour."

He stirred, rolling over to see what was making such a noise. When he saw her, he jumped.

"Granger, what in the bloody hell are you doing in my room?" He sat up, and his sheets fell off his bare chest. She turned away.

"We have a meeting in half an hour and you were still sleeping."

"Apparently. Alright. I'll get up."

She left the room, shaking her head. Draco Malfoy was the most irresponsible, lazy, sarcastic person she'd ever met, and that was a lot, considering some people she knew. And of all people, he'd been chosen for Head Boy. Hermione was beginning to doubt McGongalls decision again. Hermione got ready, changing into her school uniform and shoes, and gathering her things. They had a meeting before breakfast with the school staff, and Hermione had been up for an hour preparing notes on things she felt were important. Draco likely didn't have any notes. She sighed. This was going to be a difficult year.

When they arrived at the meeting, the staff talked for a while about their concerns. Hermione was next. She listed off the things she'd remembered to write down, in order of importance, and got her comments back on them. Then it was Draco's turn. Hermione rolled her eyes, sure that he was about to name nothing and then get in trouble. But she was so wrong. He pulled a small scroll of parchment from his pocket, cleaning his throat.

"Some Ravenclaw girls have been complaining about their dormitory restrooms, something about a malfunctioning toilet... Peeves has found a new hobby, which happens to be dropping stink bombs on first years. Uh, there's a portrait on the fourth floor that's started yelling obscenities at anyone who looks at it for too long, and one of the empty classrooms on the sixth floor is raining." He passed the scroll down the row to McGonagall. Hermione stared at him. While the Headmistress finished up the meeting, Hermione whispered to Draco.

"That was... impressive."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Granger."

"You should. I didn't expect you to have anything."

"Well..." he turned to McGonagall. "It's like she said. I've changed quite a bit."

"I guess so."

He smiled at her - actually _smiled_ at her - and stood to leave as the staff did. Hermione sat still in her seat, shocked.

* * *

Another day, another alarm. Ron Weasley shut it off, rolling out of bed. He'd slept through ten minutes of it - he was already late for breakfast. Dressing quickly and gathering his things, he walked down to the great hall to grab some toast or something before his first class. He was stopped on the way down, however, by none other than Profressor Rowe.

"Morning, Weasley. Late riser?"

"Always. Mum goes crazy over it."

"I can imagine. You'd better hurry and catch a bite to eat. I'll see you later in class." She waved at him, disappearing down a corridor. He got a strange feeling about himself, but shook his head and continued walking. It was all this sleep he was getting. It was going to make him absolutely mental. He reached the Gryffindor table and sat with Harry, who was staring down into his plate.

"And what's your problem?"

"If you hadn't heard, your sister's gone and left me."

"What?"

"Just about two weeks ago. Wouldn't give me a real reason why. I thought you knew."

"Had no idea. Nobody tells me anything, not you, not Hermione..."

"I haven't seen much of her."

"Me neither. And I miss her terribly."

"Yeah, you're telling me..."

"I just don't understand. She's always been busy at school, but Harry this is stupid!"

"I know, Ron. I'll try and have a talk with her next time I see her."

"I'm not good at talking to her, still..."

"Oh, I know. Trust me Ron, I know."

* * *

Hermione, however, was not in a place to be talking to Ron or Harry. In the free period before their afternoon classes, Draco had once again come to Hermione for help on homework - some due that day, of course. She obliged, sitting with him in the same spot as before. "Right. Draco..."

A half-hour passed, and Hermione found it nearly time to leave for their next class. "Alright then. We'd better get going. I'm only just upstairs, you're all the way out in the Greenhouses, let's get a move on. He grabbed the scroll and stood, walking to the door. He opened it and - in a moment of kindness, held it open for Hermione. Her look of surprise and confusion was enough to make him laugh, and so he did.

"Granger, it's a door, not a trap. Come on. You'll be late for class, and we know what a tragedy that would be." He rolled his eyes. His sarcastic joke, however, did not get him the desired effect. Instead of laughing, or even taking it as just a joke, she stepped out the door, cheeks blazing. Who did Malfoy think he was, mocking her like that? She turned out of the hallway walking at full speed towards Professor Wood's classroom. A nice dose of DADA would cheer her right up, she was sure of it. Until she saw Harry.

He wasn't anything like himself, and she'd only just realized that she'd barely even seen him in the past two weeks. She'd been busying herself so much with other things that she'd been neglecting her best friend. His shoulders were hunched over, his head hung low. She remembered that Ginny had left him - and she personally still hadn't talked to the girl since - and attempted to let her mind think that was it. She would have stopped to say hello - honestly - but there was no time now, she'd have to go see him in the Common Room later... when she turned the last corner away from him, she glanced back once more to see him shuffling around a corner, the usual bounce in his step completely missing.

* * *

Draco knew something was wrong when Hermione came in to their sitting room before dinner.

"Granger... you've been moping about all day. What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing is wrong with me, Malfoy! Well... maybe there is something wrong with me, but that's beside the point. I've just seen Harry before classes, and he looks terrible."

"And?"

"And I can't even bring myself to go talk to him. And I haven't even seen Ron but twice since school began. I feel like I'm just... neglecting them. I haven't even been seeing them at Dinner because I rarely make it on time."

"Well that's no good."

But Hermione did not go see her friends that night. Instead, she was called away by Professor McGonagall, as was Draco.

"Soon then, Granger. You really should."

"I know what I need to do, Malfoy. What I should do is none of your business! I can handle myself just fine!" She quickened her pace to set a distance between them.

Hermione did not get to see them that night. She and Draco were called on some important school matters. As she walked slightly ahead of him in the crowded hallway, he almost lost sight of her. Catching her once more, he put out a hand to find her. His fingertips touched her lower back, and she froze. Draco took the steps between them to catch up, his heart pounding. _That was an... odd sort of moment. _

"Come on, Granger. We can't be late."

* * *

Oliver Wood needed to do something. He'd been relatively at ease lately, as Luna hadn't been by in nearly two weeks. Rearranging the things on his desk, he found a key to a trunk of things he'd brought with him. He smiled. There were good memories in there. He crossed the room and turned the key in the lock, then lifted the lid. The two pieces of his first ever broom were in there. He'd kept them as an odd sort of souvenir - he had played with it all through his years on the Gryffindor house team, and only in his second to last game did it snap in half after he was shoved - hard - into a goalpost. There was also a quaffle in there, though he didn't quite remember where that had come from. A few fan letters that were especially weird, during his years playing for Puddlemere. And then he pulled out the photo album.

There were photographs in here from his childhood, with his parents. There was one of him alone, covered in muck after it rained. Smiling. Then he moved onto his Hogwarts years, pictures laughing and smiling with friends old and new, pictures of him playing Quidditch or showing his team new strategies. There was one of him and Harry, from Harry's first year, Olivers fifth. There was one of the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, the year Oliver was captain. He smiled, looking at the odd group of students in their Quidditch robes. As he was about to turn the page, there was a knock at the door. He pulled himself off the floor, shutting his things in the trunk. The trunk that was so full of memories...

When he crossed the room again to answer his office door, he was at a loss of words at who he'd opened the door to find. There she was, Luna Lovegood. And all of the sudden, all of those moments when he thought he was going completely mad, didn't make any sense. Nothing did.

"Luna?"

"Professor."

"What's going on?"

"I just needed some help on an essay. One of the one's I'm still making up. I just can't get this last bit..." She stepped past him into his office, sitting on the couch, as she had before. "And I figured I've been working on it long enough, I need to finish..."

"Right, uh... Luna. Okay. Well..."

He sat beside her, grabbing a quill from his desk on the way over. They worked on her essay, finally finishing the last of her work she missed. As the evening progressed, Oliver found himself feeling oddly at ease around the dreamy voiced young woman. It was probably that voice doing it - he felt so calm, it was magnificent. When the last sentence was inked in and complete, Luna handed the parchment to him.

"There's the last of it then. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"Alright..."

"Goodbye, Professor, and goodnight."

"Goodnight Luna."

"Oh, and Professor... thank you ever so much for the help."

"Of course."

She stepped out the door, waving at him as she walked backwards most of the way to the staircase. He watched her leave, waving to her, and then closed the door, turned around, and rested against it. What was wrong with him? When she was here, he was at ease. When she wasn't, he was absolutely ridiculously crazy. He shook his head, walking to his desk to straighten up. More than a few times that night, Oliver Wood had to shout at himself to stop himself from thinking that while his old memories were hidden away in that trunk, he could make new memories, here... now... with her.

* * *

**AN: Ah, finally. I'll update again tonight, I've just redone parts of the plotline because they seemed to be going nowhere... thanks for reading! Please review!**


	6. Late October

**AN: Computer was down for a day or two, but with my awesomeness, I have managed to fix it. I kept thinking, the whole time, "I really, really want to update The Eighth Year. Now. Now. Now. Annnd still now." So here I am - first update after I got this old shoebox back up and running. To make up for it, I've written you a quite lengthy chapter indeed, and a few more bits of the plot are about to come to fruition. Enjoy! **

**

* * *

**

Ron was awake. It was late in the afternoon, he'd skipped his last week with an excuse that he wasn't feeling well, and instead of heading to the Hospital Wing, or to his dormitory to sleep, he started walking. He hadn't actually spent time with Hermione in nearly a week and a half, now. And even then, it was only practically an hour, walking around the grounds. He followed this path now, wishing she were next to him, but knowing he might not see her again for a few days at least - she'd explained that she was very busy now, and that she wanted him to check on Harry, then left. He walked around for a few minutes, then returned to the castle, wandering the corridors aimlessly. Almost immediately, he walked through a throng of students out of class, very early. Curious, he kept walking. They were coming out of Professor Rowe's room. He'd just been there for the previous class, and he figured he might stop by to ask a question on the subject matter anyway. He stepped into the classroom, and, finding it empty, stepped to her office door. He knocked three times. No answer. He knocked again, curious.

"Professor Rowe?"

The door swung open. "Ah, Weasley. It's you."

"Let a class out pretty early, then."

"Yes, well... I've not been in the best state, today."

"That's... not good, I suppose."

"Not at all."

Ron shifted his weight back and forth. What was this tension he felt in the room. He'd originally come in intent on asking about Transfiguration, but now, something was different.

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

She turned toward him, and for a fleeting moment he felt he'd made a wrong step. To recover, he took a step back. But she smiled.

"Actually, yes." She sniffled. He sat.

"You see, Ron... I was married, once before. When I was younger, we married, because I thought at the time I was in love. Technically, he was the first man I'd ever befriended, as a home taught student, and we felt connected. Just recently... less than six months ago, actually, he divorced me. Just left me, thought we weren't right for each other."

"Well, that's rubbish!"

"To put it lightly, yes Weasley, that's what I said. But it didn't change his mind."

They talked for nearly an hour. They missed half of dinner. When they'd finished talking, Rowe sent Ron ahead early to get something to eat before Dinner ended. "I'll catch up."

Ron left the room feeling pleased with himself. Though he'd been looking to ask an entirely different question, he felt like he knew something about her now that none of the other students did, and he felt like he'd helped her - something he'd never been able to feel around Harry or Hermione - and that made him feel good, as nothing had in quite some time.

* * *

Oliver heard a knock. He let out a quiet sentence in a breath. "Oh, please not again."

"Professor? I'm afraid I'm stuck again. I'm not very good at writing essays."

The light, airy voice would bring a smile to anyone's face but his, at the moment.

"Uh, Luna... I'm afraid I can't help you tonight. Much too much to do... possibly tomorrow?"

The another voice spoke. "Wood, the girl is asking for a bit of help." McGonagall. He swore.

"Ah... I suppose I can... put it off til tomorrow... come on in." Luna sat on the couch, Minerva folded her arms.

"I'd just been walking up to tell you there's a meeting tomorrow morning, there have been a few issues. You two get some work done, then..." She eyed Oliver, who was embarrassed, and left, shutting the door behind her.

"Alright, then, Luna. Let's get to it."

"To be honest, professor, it's not about the essay."

Oliver was puzzled. "Well, what's about it then?"

"I can't seem to disarm anyone."

"And why would you be trying?"

"Neville and this girl, a Hufflepuff he's been seen with a few times, played a small prank on me, and he looked like he was at it again but I caught him. When I cast the spell though, it didn't work."

His brow furrowed. "Show me."

She blushed. "It's rather embarrassing... I really don't..."

"Come off it. Let me see. I can try to help." Maybe letting her in wasn't a bad idea. This was curious.

She stood, facing him. "Fine. But I can't just disarm you. I think the problem is that I have to feel like I'm in danger. That I have to disarm someone, not just that it would work."

"Are you challenging me to a duel, Miss Lovegood?"

"I said nothing of the sort. But now you've said it, so be prepared..."

"Ah, against a girl who can't even disarm anyone!"

She stuck out her tongue. "You're teasing me, professor." She walked past him to prepare to duel. As she brushed against him, he smelled something sweet, and vaguely familiar... he shook his head. That was not important. He was about to duel a student. In his own office.

They bowed, and stepped as far apart as they could in the small area.

"_Rictusempra!"_

_"Expelliarmus!" _

Luna immediately began laughing, the tickling curse having hit her square in the chest. Wood's wand hadn't even moved. _"Finite Incantatem. _I see what you mean then, Luna. Something else, th-"

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _

Wood silently deflected the spell. "Almost caught me off guard there... _Levicorpus!"_

Luna pointed her wand at herself, then at Oliver. "_Liberacorpus! Oblivia-"_

He slashed his wand again, deflecting it. "Come on, Luna... you can do better than that..." She stood, frustrated.

"_Langlock! Expelliarmus!" _Oliver felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, and - shockingly - his wand fly from his hand. He looked up at her, and she was beaming.

"I did it! Oh, finally! Thank you professor... _Finite -"_ But Oliver had already silently used this.

He put his wand up again. "_Tallantallegra!" _Her legs began moving wildly.

_"Finite Incantatem! Locomotor Mortis!" _

Now his own legs were locked, hers perfectly able to move. She stepped towards him in long strides, til they were only a foot apart. He could not speak. He could not breathe. He couldn't even mutter the correct counterjinx. He closed his eyes, smelling that sweet smell once more. She whispered her next spell in his ear, her breath ticking his ear and running through his hair. The knot in his stomach was back, and bigger than ever. "_Ferula." _Bandages flew from her wand, wrapping his arms to his sides.

He now could not move. He dared not open his eyes, until, "Alright, Luna... you win. It's over." But he received no reply. In fact, that intoxicating scent was gone, as well. His eyes fluttered open. She was gone. He looked around the room, and if it hadn't been for one of her peacock feather quills lying on his table still, he might have convinced himself he'd imagined the whole thing.

* * *

Harry Potter was becoming an addict. Not of anything you'd imagine, with such a term. But of a certain undisturbed place among the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts. He slid down the wall once again, and in the portrait above him, the older man, Barnam, sighed, walking out of the frame. The last time his wife had tried asking Harry a question, he hadn't even answered and - annoyed - it now took to leaving frame every time he came around. He leaned his head back against the wall. It was already halfway through October, and already, nothing was the same. Harry had, when he'd gotten the letter, been expecting another year at Hogwarts, free from wondering about Voldemort or Death Eaters, free to roam and enjoy himself and his time with his friends. But it had been nothing like that. Hermione had gone absolutely mad, and they'd barely seen her. Luna had gotten hit by Wood's bludger, and had been catching up on work since. Neville was, strangely, always with another girl. Ginny had left him. Dean and Seamus didn't take much interest. And worst of all, Ron was avoiding everyone and everything, he hadn't even talked to Harry in nearly a week and they shared a dormitory. Most nights, by the time Harry got there, Ron was usually already sleeping, and was still sleeping when he left for breakfast the next morning. He'd have to ask Ron about that soon enough...

"You're Harry Potter."

Harry opened his eyes to see no one. Standing, he looked up and down the deserted hallway.

"Over here in the portrait. No, on the other side."

Harry finally located the frame in question. "Yes, I am."

"I've been meaning to congratulate you on your defeat of Lord Voldemort."

"Thanks... I guess."

"Yes indeed, it's been a topic among many of us... I imagine this year must be quite strange for you?"

"That's an understatement."

"Ah, I see. Care to share?" And for once, Harry did. He told the younger, darker man in the portrait about the strange things he'd been feeling and experiencing since his return, and how he felt that he had no direction, now that an Auror's job had taken such a different meaning...

After over fifteen minutes, the man smiled. "Well Harry, I'd love to continue. But I really must go, I'm being called back to my other frame... another night, perhaps..."

Harry stared as the man walked out of sight. He sighed, returning to his usual spot on the wall. He closed his eyes, thinking. After a moment, he chuckled to himself. "I must be mad."

Harry was surprised to hear a voice again, but this time it was not the deep voice of the portrait he'd just been talking to. Instead, he was startled by a smooth, feminine voice sounding just at the corner.

"Possibly. You were, I think, speaking to a portrait?"

Harry turned, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the hallway once more. Of all people, he might have been most surprised to see Pansy Parkinson. She tossed her head, flipping her short hair out of her face.

"Well, yeah. I was."

"Not so mad then, I think."

He could make a little more out of her now. She was still in her school uniform, pleated skirt, white shirt, green tie, even though it was well past dinner. She was leaning against the wall, just turning the corner, her arms folded across her chest. She was smirking down at him, her slightly turned up nose crinkling slightly with her smile.

He shook his head. He was sure he was seeing Pansy, but, why?

"Talking to a portrait for nearly twenty minutes isn't mad?"

"That long? Really? I'd only caught the last minute or so."

"And you didn't think to say you were standing just around the corner?"

She cocked her head to one side, apparently weighing the answers.

"No. I didn't."

"Oh. Alright then. So, what exactly are you doing here?"

"It's a free campus, Potter, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess that's right."

"Nah. I've been coming here for three weeks or so, actually. Usually early in the morning, before most people wake up. It's quiet."

He smiled. He wasn't crazy, then. Someone else needed the solace as well. "Yeah. I've been here every night since term began."

She widened her eyes. "Wow. Such dedication."

"I suppose. Mostly, it's just... away. D'you know what I mean?"

She took a few steps, and now Harry could make out her features more clearly. She tossed her hair again. "I know exactly what you mean. It's... calm."

"Exactly. And I needed..."

"To get away? I can't imagine why. Defeating Voldemort. Coming back to Hogwarts. Distracted best girl friend. Upset best mate. I can see why."

Harry was startled again. "How'd you know all that?"

Pansy laughed. "I just know most things. Generally, because Draco's been missing quite a bit too, on Head Boy business or whatever the bloody hell he's calling it now. Plus, Granger is... well, she's a bookworm, and she always studied to begin with, we all know that. And Weasley... well, in the times I've known of him, when is he not bothered by something?"

Harry said nothing for a moment. But slowly, he nodded. "That's actually pretty accurate. Very accurate."

She took a few more steps, and in those last few feet she seemed to ask him if it was alright for her to stay for a while. He simply looked at her. She took this as granted permission. She closed the last few feet, sitting directly across the hall from him, the same way he sat. "I'm observant. Always have been. You Gryffindors might call it 'cunning', I just say I've got my eyes open most of the time." She laughed, and though it shocked him, he quickly found himself laughing along with her. It was easy, and that shocked him more than anything else had that year.

"So, Harry Potter... 'The Boy Who Lived' - again and again and again and again - what's it like? To hide in this hallway?"

"To tell the truth, it's brilliant. What with Ron and Hermione..."

"And? What about them?"

"Well, they're my best mates. And I've barely seen them since we've gotten here."

"I see."

And for the second time that night, Harry vented to someone completely unexpected. Pansy nodded and commented at all the appropriate times, asked questions when she didn't quite understand what Harry was saying, and lent her own phrases for things that he couldn't quite explain on his own. It was strange, Harry thought, sharing all of these feelings with a Slytherin of all people, one who'd been quite close to Malfoy, one that he'd never really spoken to before. One that, for some odd reason or another, completely understood him. And he quite liked it.

* * *

Neville Longbottom had indeed been spotted with such a Hufflepuff girl - but not at all in the way people had been expecting. Instead, he and his new friend Arianna had been spending less and less time talking these days, and more and more time snogging. He rounded the corner, on his way to see her again, in a premeditated meeting place - a broom closet in a deserted corridor near the Gryffindor common room. He grinned, thinking of the past two weeks. She had not been the only one to visit him in there. Neville Longbottom was quite enjoying this year at Hogwarts...

* * *

Hermione Granger, however, was not.

"I'm sorry I got angry with you." She stood in the doorway of Head Student quarters, speaking to Draco, who was lying on the sofa, reading.

"Excuse me?"

"I yelled at you, about a week ago, because you told me to visit Ron and Harry and I hadn't yet thought too much about going to see them at night, when they would surely be in the common rooms."

"Alright then. And have you, yet?"

She blushed, kicking at the carpet. "No."

"Well, again, I'm going to advise you do that then. Just don't bite my head off for suggesting it."

She glared at him, turning from the room. She spent every second thinking of what she might say to her best friend and her boyfriend.

_Sorry I've been avoiding you? Sorry I've gone mad? Where have you been? Where have I been? _Nothing sounded right. But when Hermione stepped through the portrait hole at last, she scoped the common room to discover that neither of the boys were there at all. She inquired upon Seamus and Dean if they'd seen them, but both shook their heads, deep in conversation still. Hermione rolled her eyes, looking around again. But she didn't see them anywhere. Put out, she returned to her dormitory, to see Draco was still reading.

"So dedicated to your school work, of course."

"I am, actually." He held up the book for her to take a glance at the cover: _Hogwarts, a History. _

"I'm impressed, Draco."

"That I can read? Or that I'm doing it on purpose?"

"Possibly a bit of both." She sat on the couch beside him, and he swatted her.

"Back so soon, though?"

She sighed. "Yes. Neither of them were anywhere to be found. I asked Dean and Seamus..."

"But they didn't know either." Draco set down his book. For some reason, this angered him. Hermione had gone to find them, she'd gone to fix things with them, and they were probably off somewhere without her, they didn't even care. His face tightened. Hermione nodded. He fumed. Where were they, then, that was so important? What was more important to Harry than one of his best friends? And to Ron, than his girlfriend? Before he knew it, Draco's thoughts were becoming words.

"That's crap. They should have been there."

"Well, I suppose so, but I should have gone looking sooner..."

"No. No. They should have been somewhere you could easily find them. It's not like they can come looking for you, but they should know you're aware of where to find them. And they're gone. That's rubbish."

"Really, Draco, it's honestly not a problem..."

"Don't kid yourself. They've been right prats since term began. They could have found you, easily, but they didn't. Some friends they are."

Hermione looked curious now, but it could not stop him. He couldn't stop himself.

"Honestly. You could be treated better. I should have known, earlier, though I don't know how I could have stopped it, could have stopped you from having to deal with them and their arrogance for years... I just don't see what you see in them, I don't see how you're still friends with them."

Hermione truly was curious now. What on earth was Draco going on about?

"I don't see what you see in Potter, and his self-righteous ass... I don't see what you see in the lot of them, as a stupid pair... and most of all, I don't see what you see in Weasley, the brainless git, he can't even treat you right, does more complaining about everything else than talking to you at all! I don't understand."

"Malfoy, I don't understand why you're upset, either, but you shouldn't be insulting my friends!"

"Maybe I'm just tired of them treating you like dirt, Hermione! You can do better!" Suddenly feeling wild, he turned, storming up to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione was shocked. She sat back down, having risen after her last outburst. Still gaping, she replayed the past minute or two over and over again, trying to pick it apart and make some sense out of it. After a while, though, she saw less and less of her own logic, and more of his. They had been missing. They should have been available. Harry was a bit self-righteous, but she'd always known that, sometimes wondering herself if it had all gone to his head, thinking he had to - or could - do everything alone... and Ron. Ronald Weasley. He did nothing but complain. Yes, he was sweet sometimes, and frequently charmed flowers for her, but it was still Ron.

And with a gasp, everything set into place. So much doubt, so much anger, set in right then, because of what Malfoy had said. She hadn't gotten an ounce of it at the time, and now she wished she was still oblivious, still missing Harry and still in love with Ron... but with all that had opened up to her now, she couldn't dream of it. Shouting out loud, she began to cry, retreating to her own common room. Draco Malfoy had ruined a lot of things, but this was the worst.

* * *

Luna pulled another Peacock feather quill from her bag, smiling. She sat at a desk in the Ravenclaw common room, finishing the last of her essay that she obviously hadn't gotten help with in her visit to Oliver, with a normal quill. Once she'd reached the last few words - an inch or two over what had been required, she leaned back in her chair. With a dreamy sigh, she replayed the events of the previous night: the teasing, the duel, the puzzled face Oliver got whenever she surprised him with some offhand comment, one eyebrow raised, deep in thought, a slight smile on his handsome face... she giggled to herself. _Handsome._ He was, indeed, handsome - and young, just having reached 22.

She picked up the peacock quill and a piece of fresh parchment, and touched the quill to the surface. Immediately, the words she thought sprang to life on the page, in her own wispy, thin handwriting. In just a moment, she was done with an entire letter to remind herself of the events of the previous weeks. As she removed the quill from the paper, the ink disappeared before her eyes. It was her own special charm - she'd cast it on two peacock feathers she had, charming them to write the author's thoughts without them having to write, and to disappear when another peacock quill was not touched to the parchment. She'd originally discovered she could do this during DA meetings, but then the coins were introduced and she had no need. Casting _Aparecium_ had no effect whatsoever, if anyone ever wanted to read the letters, they had to have one of the quills. And beside the one in Luna's own hand, there was only one other feather charmed to be let in on the secret - one she'd purposefully left on Professor Wood's coffee table. She put the letter in her bag - this one was for her only. Oliver would have to think like a Ravenclaw, if he was to ever read the note she'd left hidden on his desk.

* * *

Pansy pursed her lips, applying lip gloss. She set it down after, frowning. She'd been getting ready for him, she knew it. It was terrible. Since the first time she'd found him over a week ago, she'd been switching her times in the hallway to coincide with his, at least three or four times. It was now Halloween - term had begun two months ago, and for the first time, she felt like she was looking forward to something - even if it was looking forward to seeing Potter. She'd enjoyed the holiday as a child, with a sheet thrown over her head with eyes cut out. She hadn't agreed with any of the fairy princess bit, instead dressing as a Zombie one year, to her mother's dismay. And soon, she'd cut her hair in a sleek, angular cut... but she was getting distracted now. Her tomboyishness disappeared when it came to these meetings. She smoothed over the slight wrinkle in her skirt, and fixed her hair, setting off then for the hallway she'd come to think about throughout the day. She turned the corner to see him again, and took her now usual place across the hall, sliding down the wall to sit directly facing him. He looked up at last, smiling at her. She nodded.

"So, Potter, what's the topic today?"

He shook his head.

"That bad, eh?"

"Yeah. Apparently, Hermione came looking for Ron and I. I was here, had been since after my last class of the day, except for dinner, and I didn't see her there at all... I'm not terribly sure where Ron was. Seamus said he left his last class early that day, hadn't seen him since."

"That's... peculiar. So you wish you would have seen her?"

Anyone else on earth could have picked up the hint of bitterness in her voice. Harry, however, was oblivious.

"Yeah. I do. She's one of my best mates, and she's been really odd lately."

"I know the feeling."

They continued conversation for nearly an hour tonight, longer than all of their talks besides the first one. When the pair stood to leave, they smiled, nodding at each other. "Potter."

"You can use my first name, you know."

"Fine. Harry."

"Pansy. Again soon, then?"

"Of course."

She left, and Harry stood in the again empty hallway again, feeling strangely satisfied. Shaking the now-forming thoughts from his head, he rushed as quickly as he could to his dormitory. If Ron was awake, which was doubtful, they might be able to have a talk about things again...

* * *

**AN: WHEW. Okay. Now that that's done... I had typed up a better version, in my opinion, but when I went to save it, the file didn't save... figuring it was a sign, I changed a few things, and ideas are already forming in my mind of how to play off of them... it's going to be interesting. Alright. Hope you enjoyed your 4500 word update. I'll post again soon. Review. And check out my other stories, maybe? This one is the least popular at the moment, and yet my favorite... what a shame. OKAY. SIDETRACKED. AHEM. REVIEW. I LOVE YOU. KBYE. **


	7. Early November

**AN: Weee, I'm happy to be back. This is my favorite story that I'm working on right now, because of all of the weird matchups going on... hahah. Still more craziness to come, I assure you. It's all written right here, right in front of me! Well, an outline anyway... bwahaha :3 This has gotten me all dorky and excited. Okay. Updating now. Enjoy!**

Harry Potter was in a particularly strange mood. This could be caused by several things, though he knew it was largely in part due to his unexpected visitor, just over a week ago. He slid down the wall again, replaying the entire conversation over and over, still not getting much out of it. Of all people, he hadn't expected to see Pansy Parkinson - and she'd surprised him even further by sitting across the hallway from him, listening intently to the entirety of his frustrations. That, however, almost wasn't the strangest part... that, of course, went to the fact that of all people, she completely understood him and his need for quiet. His need for a place to call his own. A need for some calm.

And yet, now he was alone. It was calm. And he couldn't feel more alone. It wasn't so much that he directly knew that he wanted her to come back... only that he liked that she'd been there. He set his head back against the wall, as usual, reflecting on everything going on around him.

It wasn't even possible to worry about Hermione. She'd been so busy, they barely saw her once a week. When they did, she acted as if nothing was the matter, staying only for half an hour before leaving, back to her own dormitory. Ron was a mess because of it, and that scared Harry a little. He'd seen Ron upset - even Pansy had mentioned it - but never for quite this long, except in their fourth year, and that was just ridiculous... Harry opened his eyes, trying to think of a way to cheer up his best mate. There wasn't going to be a Hogsmeade trip for another two weeks. There wasn't a terribly large selection of things to do around the castle. He settled for some flying practice, as that was always a favorite of Ron's, and stood, walking off to find the youngest Weasley boy. Harry just knew he had to do something, and quick.

* * *

Ron sat in the common room, quietly playing a one-sided game of wizard's chess. He'd charmed the board to play against him, and now he was thinking that this possibly wasn't a great idea - he was losing, for once. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned. "Can't you see I'm - oh, Harry. Hi."

"Hi yourself. Chess?"

"Obviously."

Harry sat across from Ron, picking up the other side of the game. Within minutes, Ron was winning again. Harry had never been able to beat him at this...

"Ron... you've been a little quiet lately. I'm just worried I guess."

Ron smiled for the first time in a week, and it felt foreign on his face. "Don't worry about me, 'Arry. I'm fine. Just fine. I've just been a little distracted lately, that's all."

Harry was suspicious, but said nothing about it. "That's... well, I suppose. How are you doing in classes?"

"Really well, actually... especially in Transfiguration."

This startled Harry the most. "Really?"

"Yeah. Professor Rowe gives me loads of help... she's always letting me have another go at things I've missed before. I'm actually getting things on the first try, now."

"That's brilliant, Ron! I still can't transfigure as well as I should..."

Ron made another move, capturing Harry's queen. "Check."

Harry sighed, attempting to find a way out. He made his move, only to be cornered again. And again. On the third try though, there was no escape. "Checkmate."

Harry shook his head, as Ron's chess pieces filed themselves back into a bag. Ron grinned. Winning a game of chess had made him entirely too happy. "It's like I said, Harry. I'm fine."

* * *

Hermione Granger, however, was about to ruin that.

She'd been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days, because of the things Draco had said. She really didn't want it all to go back to him, but in truth, it did. He'd asked her what she saw in Ron and over the past week or so, she'd done much too much thinking about it, but the truth was, she didn't know what she saw in him anymore. He was selfish, and sometimes absolutely ridiculous. He never made a move. He was stubborn, and strange, and she couldn't see many positive things left in Ron Weasley. She'd cried at least three times this week, realizing that once she'd finally had Ron, she lost him because of something Draco said. She set down her book, sighing. There was no use in waiting. She'd better take care of things now.

Walking into the common room was the toughest part. She knew, as soon as she found him, that he'd be happy to see her, and want to spend time together. But that wasn't the case, this time. She stepped inside after nearly five minutes and found him putting his chess set away, Harry sitting across from him. She grimaced. She imagined finding him alone, but now she'd have to pull him away from Harry...

"Ron?" He turned around and smiled at her.

"'Mione... hey. I've just beat Harry at Wizard's chess, it beats playing against a charmed board..."

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

His smile fell, but he nodded and followed her. Something closed around her heart, which suddenly felt like beating was impossible. She walked him just outside of the common room, wringing her hands. Once the portrait had swung shut behind him, she began. "Ron, things have... changed. I've changed. And I'm beginning to think that maybe... I don't like the same things anymore. I don't want the same things I used to..."

"Like me?"

Ron's response startled her. "Well..."

"I've seen it coming, Hermione... you've only seen us once a week since term started. And you never want to spend time with me anymore."

"It's more than just that, Ron! I was busy then, and afraid that you two didn't like me, I came to visit you and you were gone!"

"What, we're just supposed to sit around waiting for you to show up? Harry's been gone every night too, it's just me half the time!"

This surprised Hermione as well. "Harry's been gone?"

"Don't get off track." He shook his head. "Just get it over with. I know what you're here to do."

"Ron, it's not... I can't..."

"Then why are you here?"

Hermione paused, thinking.

"Someone said something to me... and it got me thinking..."

"Malfoy, I bet... you only ever see him now, I know it."

"Ron, that's ridiculous!"

"Come off it, Hermione. You're always off on Head Girl duty, they can't honestly have you doing things all day every day. I know it. The look on your face just tells me I'm right."

Hermione indeed did look guilty. She was kicking at the stone floor beneath her feet, her eyes closed. Suddenly, though, something in her changed. She was livid with Ron for suggesting anything like the sort - that she'd been avoiding them, and whatnot.

"For your information, Ronald Weasley, I don't feel a thing for you anymore. And I've come here to end things between us, once and for all, because I don't know what I ever saw in you!"

Ron did not respond, only shook his head and stepped back into the common room, then directly upstairs to his bed, back to sleeping. He muttered the password to the fat lady as she let him through, shaking her head at Hermione, who stormed off down the stairs, her eyes wet with fresh tears.

* * *

Oliver Wood sat in his office with every intention of going absolutely mad. Luna hadn't stopped by since the night of that duel, and though she'd been in his class, she'd shown absolutely no signs that she'd be stopping by any time soon again. He groaned, realizing that he shouldn't be thinking anything about it at all. She was seventeen, yes, and she'd come of age in the wizarding world. But she was his student. And he was twenty-two. Five years older. He groaned again. Why did that have to matter? She was beautiful, yes, but she was his student. It was strictly a professional relationship. But then the word relationship floated around in his head for a moment or two before Oliver realized he had to do something, now, to distract himself. He began clearing papers off of his desk, filing them away or vanishing them, throwing away old quills or saving those that might still be good. He picked up, at last, the peacock feather quill, which felt lighter and smoother than any other he'd ever held. He hadn't tried to write with it yet - it was Luna's quill after all, but since she'd gathered everything else, he had the odd feeling she'd left it there on purpose...

Something suddenly caught his eye. It was a blank piece of parchment, a lighter sort than he himself used. It was definitely not something he'd had there before, he had no idea where it had come from - it was midway down one stack, flatter than most of his other crumpled pieces, and smelling slightly of... no. He recognized this smell again, and it immediately made his heart race. Sweet, but not sticky sweet, almost flowery, very light. He'd smelled this particular scent not more than a week and a half ago, before it had disappeared... his heart pounded in his chest, his whole body felt lighter than air...

He picked it up and set it in front of him. There was nothing on it. He tried using Aparecium - no luck. It wasn't disappearing ink, then. But there was definitely something distinctly Luna about this, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He tried writing something on it - nothing. Just a scribble of his own doing. He tried holding it up to the oil lamp on his desk - again, nothing. And then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted it - the peacock quill. He picked it up, and something felt right about it - this was what she'd meant for him to think of all along. He tried writing on it, and immediately saw words flash across the paper. He set the tip back down, then took it off. The words appeared, then disappeared. He grinned. She was brilliant at charm work.

_Professor Wood, (Though I know you prefer Oliver)_

_If you've found this note, you're thinking like a Ravenclaw. Impressive. You've already exceded my expectations. Also if you're reading this note, then my plan worked - we dueled, right here in this office. I've pre-written this letter, so I'm unsure of the outcome, though I can assure you, I can duel quite well when I can disarm anyone. Since I assume you remember I can't normally make a wand fly anymore, I'm challenging you to a rematch. If you accept, you'll find that the Peacock feather quill is quite useful in writing letters. If you haven't already figured out the second part, they're meant so that only the other person with the quill can read them. You can write with yours, though I admit it is a little tricky, as the quill writes your thoughts before you actually could write them down... perhaps you can figure out a trick for that when you reply to this letter, with your acceptance to my challenge. I'm proposing Friday, tomorrow, at nine. I'll come by your office, and if anyone asks, I'll simply be helping you clean out your office - it is a bit messy, I don't think anyone would deny that. I look forward to your reply. It might be interesting to receive by owl. _

_Cheers,  
Luna Lovegood._

Oliver laughed, and picked out a sheet of fresh parchment. This girl was cheeky, she was, and he quite liked it.

* * *

Pansy pulled at her skirt, nervous. She'd run into Harry just a week and a half ago, and she hadn't been back since. It wasn't that she was nervous about seeing him, it was that she was nervous that showing up would take away from his own time. She knew the value of that place - one of the only in Hogwarts where someone could fully be alone - and didn't want to ruin it for him. He seemed relaxed back there, as she'd always been in the early mornings, preparing for her day... she'd just been that very morning, sitting in not her usual place, but the one where she'd seen Harry sitting. It was quite a nice place to sit, she supposed, but she liked to sit further down, there the hustle and bustle of the halls was completely gone.

She took a deep breath. She could go find him, or she could sit around in her dormitory, keeping her thoughts to herself. In the end, she stood, walking out the door. It might be nice to have someone to talk to, someone who understood her, for once.

Rounding the corner, she slowed down, peeking. He was there, alright. Head resting against the wall, eyes closed, breathing deep. Knees pulled up, arms wrapped around his own legs. He let out a sigh. So did she. Realizing that at any moment, he might open his eyes and see her there, she stepped forward.

"Harry?"

He jumped, but smiled. "Pansy... hi."

"Hello yourself." She sashayed down the hallway, skipping to a stop and sliding down the wall as before, her legs crossed. "Back to your spot?"

"Every night. And you every morning?"

"Like clockwork."

She saw him think for a moment, then start on something that seemed rather odd to say.

"I'm glad you're here."

She blinked, but smiled. "I'm glad I'm here too, I think. Just don't get all weird on me."

"I'll try. So... anything on your mind?"

"Loads. Yourself?"

"The same. You go first."

An hour and a half later, the pair realized it was well past ten. They were supposed to be back in their dormitories already. They stood, and in an awkward moment, shook hands, not quite on the status of a hug. They chuckled slightly, turning and running to their respective dormitories. Pansy skipped half of the way back, smiling.

* * *

Neville Longbottom especially enjoyed breakfast. Not everyone was always there on time, or at all. There were a select few students who actually rose from bed early enough on a weekday, or were ready that early, to make the journey to the great hall for waffles and eggs, bacon and toast and fruit. Neville relished these moments. He usually ate with Seamus, the only other Gryffindor in his year who always woke up for breakfast this entire year so far. Neville plated some waffles, and was joined quickly by Seamus. "Morning, Neville. Good waffles today?"

"When are they not?"

The two chatted for a few moments, eating as quickly as they could before they had to head off to classes. Before they could finish, however, Neville heard a voice.

"Hello, Neville." The voice sounded particularly feminine, and a hand brushed his shoulder, palm to fingertip. He turned to see who it was, and was surprised to see Ginny Weasley grinning at him, winking. Neville nearly dropped food from his mouth. She turned, winking at him, and then swayed her hips away down the long row of tables. Closing his mouth, he turned to Seamus, who was also gaping.

"Was that... did that...?"

Seamus nodded.

"It's not that I find it particularly odd, I suppose... girls have been showing me more attention... but Ginny?"

Seamus nodded again.

"She only broke up with Harry a month ago though, right?"

Seamus nodded a final time, and Neville shook his head, turning back to his plate. Girls were so strange...

* * *

Draco Malfoy felt like a right prat. He'd only been meaning to tell Hermione that Ron wasn't treating her right, but just a few days after, she'd heard the news that she'd broken up with him, out of the blue. He walked into their shared sitting room and heard her crying again. This was the third night in a row. He was growing concerned. Knocking on the door, he called out to her. "Hermione?"

The crying ceased, but there was no answer.

"Come on then, you've been upset for days. At least come out and talk or something, you're miserable in there."

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Come off it, I'm not Ron. I'm not who you're mad at."

A moment later, her door cracked open. "Yes you are. You said those things, and they got me thinking, and that's why I did it. I dumped him."

"And maybe it was for a good cause. Come on. We'll catch up on work together - you've been crying and I've been..."

"Lazy?"

He glared at her, but she smiled, wiping her eyes. He'd let her get away with one comment.

"For lack of better word, yes. Lazy. Come on. I'm seriously behind in Potions, I can't brew a simple calming draught..."

She finally stepped out, and her eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. She was highly upset. He waved his wand, producing a patronus. She gave him a funny look, but he shook his head, leading her to the sitting room below and laying out his parchment. "I'm supposed to do an essay on it before I'm allowed to brew it..."

A few moments later, there was a knock on the door.

Hermione moved to stand, but Draco waved her down. He opened the door, taking a tray from the house elf standing below him. "Thanks, Kreacher. Enjoying Hogwarts?"

"Moreso than serving the Potter boy, perhaps... but yes, it's quite fine..." there was a shuffle of footsteps, then a loud crack. Draco shut the door, bringing the tray to the table. On it was a large pot of tea and two teacups and saucers, plus sugar, milk, and lemon. "I didn't know what you liked, but figured you might need some tea. Always helps me."

Hermione gaped at him.

"If you're going to open your mouth, Hermione, drink the tea. It's hot. And delicious."

Wordlessly, Hermione fixed her cup, and began drinking. There was also an assortment of small fruit tarts, of which she took a number of them. Draco smiled, finishing the last inch of parchment. "Are they alright?"

"Draco... you didn't have to do this."

"Of course I did. If I hadn't, you'd have kept me up with your crying, all night." She glared at him, and he almost regretted his statement, but decided not when she then smiled.

"It was nice of you though. Thank you."

Draco finished the last sentence, handing it over to Hermione. She touched her wand to it, fixing it as she had once done to Harry and Ron's, and Draco grinned again.

* * *

Luna sat at breakfast Friday morning, eager to see if she'd be receiving an owl. If she didn't, he either hadn't found the letter, hadn't figured it out, or didn't want a rematch. Any of the three would be no less than disappointing. She scooped eggs into her mouth, and then heard something drop in front of her. Smiling, she picked up a small scroll of parchment. Right on time, and delivered by her own owl.

_Luna, _

_Your little quills are quite impressive. An excellent charm. I'll give you points for your House when you show up tonight, nine o'clock sharp. In this, I mean that I accept your challenge, and if you can indeed defeat me again, I'll privately excuse you from any work for the next month. Possibly two, if you show a good variety of spells. The office cleaning excuse sounds excellent as well, nobody would translate that to you and I dueling instead. I'll see you then. _

_Cheers as well,  
Oliver (Not Professor. Just Oliver.)_

She laughed, the letter was just like something he'd say out loud. Almost like a pep-talk. She remembered vaguely Harry and the Weasley twins saying something about it on a breezy spring afternoon a few years ago... she shook her head, bringing her mind back to the present. He had accepted. Luna would really have to find some new spells to use, to beat Oliver this time... she had a feeling she'd only won last time because of her element of surprise. Smiling, she rolled the scroll back up, sticking it in her large pocket, along with a Gurdyroot, a slice of toast, and a broken quill she intended to fix during her first class. All day long, she patted the pocket, thinking about the night ahead of her.

* * *

**AN: Weee, another chapter done! I quite enjoy where things are going. I'll be back to update this soon, I've been working a little more on the paper-written storyline, which is a bit crazy, even for my standards... also, check out Take Two, if you like Dramione, or What Might Have Been if you like Luna in odd pairings, it's a Luna/George that I'm almost done with. I'll be starting another story in a few days! Most likely An Unlikely Pair, as it was runner up in the poll and I was supposed to start it early in January... drat. Anyway, review please! Thanks for reading, and watch out for the next update soon! **


	8. Late November

**AN: Back again, Eight Year readers. I'd have some shout-outs, but I'm a bit too lazy, at the moment. Next chapter, I'm sure. You should look for said chapter in the next day or two. I've been neglecting you... though I will unabashedly admit that I do update more than 95% of the writers on here, so technically I'm just downgrading to their frequencies. Okay. Here goes. Enjoy!**

Pansy Parkinson could tell that something was odd when Draco sat beside her at breakfast, shaking his head.

"Draco?"

"What are you so smug about?"

Shocked, Pansy set down her fork. "I'm not smug about anything."

"Then what's that guilty grin for?"

She blushed. Oh. Maybe she had been smiling, she'd just made a split second of eye contact with Harry across the room, and right before she turned away, she saw him wave, smiling slightly.

"The guilty grin is for nothing, Malfoy."

"I see... well, if you won't tell me, I'll find out some other way."

"I'm sure you will."

"Of course."

A thought struck her. Maybe this was her chance to boggle Draco for a while.

"Actually... you won't. You can ask anyone you'd like. And nobody would be able to tell you a damned thing. So, Draco, I bid you farewell. I really do have some business to attend to."

And with that, she grabbed her school bag, sashaying out of the Great Hall with a smug face. Maybe the last part, about having business to attend to, was a lie, but the rest wasn't. He couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, find out that she'd been meeting Harry Potter in a deserted hallway. He couldn't find out that they actually enjoyed it, on some possibly undiscovered level, and he couldn't, definitely, find out that she was going to see him again tonight.

* * *

Ron Weasley was walking the corridors. He found this to be a better waste of his time than sleeping, and he'd found that even in his Eighth year, he was still discovering new parts of the ever-confusing castle. On a particularly afternoon, empty of interaction and devoid of anything pleasant, Ron found himself climbing stairs. On the topmost floor of Hogwarts, he stopped at a windowsill towards the back of the castle, he couldn't be so sure how far, and set his head back against the hard stone. After a moment, a smatter of raindrops hit the window, then stopped again. The sudden sound made him nearly jump out of his seat, and he looked at the window to be sure he was hearing correctly. He was. But past the raindrops, he saw something rather odd...

Just inside the forbidden forest was the figure of a person, walking in and out of the boundary line. He at first tried to recognize house colors, but found that he could not. Hoping he might be able to catch someone at something, he raced back downstairs and out the front doors, turning toward the forbidden forest.

When he reached the edge, he saw that they were not student robes at all, but regular adult robes. Curious, he walked a little closer, walking the boundary line until he heard something from the person. He was surprised to hear crying.

He stopped in his tracks. It was definitely a woman. He was frozen still, if he moved now, she'd hear him. If he didn't move, they'd think he was listening. He stepped forward, around a large tree. And there was Professor Rowe.

She was sitting now, leaning back against the side of the tree facing away from the castle. Her head was settled against her arms, across her knees. He stepped on a leaf, she turned her head quickly, wiping her eyes.

"Wh-who is it?"

"It... it's just me. I saw you through a window, thought you were a student... I was prepared to be subtracting house points, but I guess that's not going to happen."

She laughed, beckoning him over.

"No, Professor, it's fine... I'll go."

"Don't be silly, Weasley. Come sit with me. I've been actually hoping someone might walk by."

He sat.

"You see, Ron... I've actually been out here quite a few times. It's been a really difficult past few months for me, and... I think McGonagall offered me this post because I needed the time away."

"Well... what's happened?"

She lay her legs flat on the ground in front of her, wrapping her cloak tighter around her.

"I was married, just out of school. His name was David. He... seemed amazing. And for six years, he was. But then... he started becoming so cold. So distant. I could never figure out what was wrong, constantly begging him to turn back into who he was." She sniffed, wiping her eyes again.

"And then one day, about a month and a half before term, he handed me divorce papers. It was a very public divorce, he's an important member of the Wizengamot, in line for Chief Warlock, everyone thinks... he'd been with a mistress. And he felt guilty, so he turned me away."

Ron sat just a few feet from her and wondered what sane man in the world might be able to turn away a woman like Professor Rowe. She was brilliant, and caring, and yet gentle... her dark hair made her eyes stand out, her perfect pale skin could charm a man speechless. He knew for a fact.

"A week later, I got the letter from McGonagall. Packed my bags and left. I've been here since."

"That's... terrible."

"You're telling me. It's been really hard."

"I can't imagine. My girlfriend left me a few days ago, but... that's nothing, compared to yours."

"She did?"

"Yeah. Gave me some 'I don't want the same things or people anymore' speech. I think it's a load of crap. But I can't really do anything about it, can I?"

"Not at all. Isn't that the worst feeling?"

"It is! Like, you'd do anything to change things, but no matter what you did, it wouldn't change a thing!"

"Ron, I am so glad you understand. It's been nearly impossible, these past few months. How long were you together?"

"Well, not long, but it had been a long time coming, really... at least four years."

"I see. Started the crush young?"

"Yeah."

"Hermione never seemed like the loving type to me."

"Not to me, either, but... there was something about her, you know?"

"I know. But trust me on this, Ron. Things will get better. If not soon, then... later. But they will."

* * *

The pair stood. Not sure how to end this, they settled for an awkward handshake, walking together back to the castle. All in all, Ron was pleased with the conversation. And Rowe appeared to be, as well.

* * *

Draco knocked on Hermione's door. They seemed to be going back and forth these days, arguing and then getting along. After a few minutes, he finally got a response.

"You know, you started this. You got those things in my head, you got me thinking about everything..."

"'Mione, we've been over this. You would have figured them out anyway. You were basically avoiding the bloke, and your best mate. And now, as another of your mates, I insist that you come back out here."

"Not a chance, Malfoy, not a chance in hell."

"Hermione..."

"Draco... I can say your name as well."

"Fine. I'll be waiting in the sitting room."

And he did. Every moment of his free time, for the next four days.

* * *

Luna sat at a desk in the Ravenclaw common room. Retrieving her parchment and peacock feather quill, she smiled. It was time for another note to Oliver, since their duel was that night, and she had to leave another note. She thought for a moment, not wanting to touch the quill down until she had the perfect way of putting things. After several moments, she settled on clues. Clues to a meeting place.

_Oliver - If all has gone well, I've won again. And used a wide variety of spells. I think this entitles me to two months free of DADA work, if I remember correctly? Well, remembering is of no need. I have the letter right here. It's nearly six while I'm writing this, nearly time to head down to dinner. Afterwards, I'll practice a touch before heading up to your office. We'll duel, I'll win. And I'll leave this somewhere odd in your office to find, and then you'll just have to follow the clues to meet me at a secret meeting place, next Thursday just before sunrise. They're written on the back, in case you can't find them. Cheers, and good luck!_

_Luna_

Satisfied, she sealed the letter shut with tape, sticking that and the roll of tape into her bag. She stepped down to breakfast, an extra bounce in her step.

* * *

Harry sat in the hallway again, this time with practically nothing on his mind. Ron and himself had both been dumped in a matter of a month or two. And while it was helping Harry to focus on his school work, it wasn't helping his social life. It was awkward, when he did see Hermione, to talk to her. And it was awkward even with Ron, who mostly sulked around for an hour or two before wandering out or up to bed. Harry almost preferred the drama, the constant activity, to this... nothing. But his nothing was about to become something. He heard familiar footsteps on the floor beside him, and he smiled, opening his eyes again to see Pansy.

"D'you know, I feel like you're the only one I really talk to, anymore?"

"Interesting. Well, Draco knows there's something going on with me, he isn't sure what, though."

"How'd he catch on?"

She thought of telling him that she'd been smiling after he'd waved to her, but quickly decided against it. "He came looking for me, a day or two ago. Usually I'm in the common room at night, if not I'm in the library or the Great Hall, studying away from obnoxious younger people, but... I wasn't there."

"Because you were here?"

"Precisely. This last time I visited you, I suppose."

"Ah. Have fun dealing with that then. At least it's something to deal with."

"Do Ron or Hermione even ask?"

"Never. Ron's whining around, Hermione's never around. So it's just me, most times. Even Neville's off, most times."

"That's... strange."

"You're telling me."

They laughed again. Harry looked away for a moment, and she took her chance. She shifted, sliding herself across the hallway to sit beside him. He was startled by her move, but not particularly displeased. She rested her head on his shoulder, he put his own head on top of hers. She sighed. He sighed. It was brilliant.

* * *

Neville was constantly looking over his shoulder. Heather had been wanting to spend time with him, but whenever he found himself around her, he felt... weird. Ginny, however, had also been wanting to spend time with him... in a completely different sense, he assumed. Ever since that morning in the Great Hall, he'd been positively confused, not knowing exactly what to think or say about that morning. Seamus wouldn't even talk about it, the most he said was "It's too weird!" before returning to whatever he was doing before. Neville was absolutely confused, with no way out. He gave up a few days later, thinking to himself that it would figure itself out if it needed to.

* * *

Hermione emerged three days later, slowly. Before, she'd been waiting for Draco to leave the room before she did, sure that if she saw him, she'd be angry at him for putting those thoughts into her head. But after a few days of hard thinking, something had changed in her mind. She opened the door, and saw him flinch on the couch by the fire. Shutting the door behind her, she stepped towards him tentatively.

"Hermione..."

"Draco. I've... been doing some thinking. And... it really isn't your fault. I _would_ have thought those things, eventually... I just thought things would get better. I thought things would change, this year. But I can't... do anything about it."

"Mhmm."

He let her vent her frustrations and feelings a little more. When she finally seemed done, he just said, "It's okay."

"It's... okay? Draco... I've been absolutely horrible to you, for no reason."

"It's fine. Consider it payback for the last seven years."

"Well... that is true. Alright. Then, let's make a rule. No being mean. No tricking, lying, etcetera. We are to be absolutely civil to each other, from this day forth."

"Alright."

"Good. Now."

"Hermione... you can relax, a little."

Only at that moment did she realize that she'd be sitting up, straight as a board, staring almost straight ahead. She did relax then, slumping against the cushions behind her and closing her eyes. It did feel marvelous, but she was not quite prepared for the next move, which was Draco scooting in closer and setting an arm around her shoulders. She did jump slightly, but then gave in, resting her head against his shoulder. It _did_ feel nice to have someone to lean on... even if it was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Oliver paced. It was not that he was nervous about her showing up, no. More that he was anxious about the whole night. If she showed up at 9, the duel could last up to half an hour, and then of course she'd stay and chat for a while before she left... It could be an hour. That was a ridiculous amount of time. And while he thought he'd had his heart rate under control, as he heard a knock on his door just after 9, his heart jumped again, for whatever reason.

He crept quietly to the door. "Who is it?" If it wasn't Luna and he said her name, the person might suspect something.

"It's just me, Luna."

Of course.

He opened the door, she stepped in, and he shut it quickly behind her.

"Luna."

"Oliver. I think it's time to duel."

"Yes, I suppose..."

"Alright then. Let's get to it."

She stood before him in jeans and a rather odd sweater, smiling. He retrieved his wand, his own jeans bothering him slightly. He was so used to wearing robes...

They bowed and took as many steps as they could across the small room. When they at last raised their wands and began to duel, it was not quick, but skillful. Each thought for a moment before using their spell, catching the other off guard quite frequently. A knee reversal hex, locomotor mortis, levicorpus, obscuro, avis and oppugno, and several instances of rictusempra later, the pair were at a standoff. Both exhausted, it had been over half an hour since Luna had stepped into Olivers office, and despite the competitive nature of each, they were ready to be done.

Oliver spoke first. "Can't we... call it... a draw?" His sentence was punctuated by deep breaths."

"No... I have to... finish this."

"I'll give you the two months no work, to stop now."

"That's not happening. Tarantallegra!"

Oliver's legs began moving uncontrollably until he used a leg-locker jinx on himself. Hopping a few feet, he finally remembered the counter-jinx. It was Luna's turn, technically. He saw her think for a moment, reach insider her pocket, and then - dark.

When the air finally returned to normal, and he could see more than an inch or two in front of his own nose, Luna was gone. He smiled, shaking his head. She really had beat him, again, even without using any defensive spells for the final victory. He walked over to his desk, relieved. They'd dueled for nearly 45 minutes. She left, probably, because she had to return to her dormitory in time for curfew. He sat in his chair, massaging the aches in his legs caused by those final spells. Upon reaching a hand to his knee, however, he felt something stuck to the bottom of his desk. Retrieving it, he smiled. It was, to most people, a blank piece of parchment. To he and Luna, however, it was a secret letter.

* * *

Blaise Zabini was, to say the least, bored out of his mind. Draco was busy, Pansy was only around half of the time, and the rest of the Slytherins went about their day as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Blaise had even stooped as low as to talk to Goyle a few times, though the boy never had much to say. He'd been quiet since his best friend Crabbe had died last year, due to his own stupid curse. Tonight, however, Blaise went for a walk. Some were just finishing dinner, some were done entirely, as he'd been, but there seemed to be no other option. He sat back down at his previous place at the Slytherin table, resting his head on his hands.

He was startled, then, by a figure walking quickly by. He did not have much time to see her as she sped around the corner, alone. Gryffindor colors, firey red hair... that was a Weasley, alright. The only female of the clan - Ginny. He stood then, figuring to himself that it would not be strange if he stepped just outside the door. He watched her leave, walking quickly and confidently to the staircase, a smug smile on her face. He admired the change in her then. Instead of sticking close to Potter and her brother, or the brain, Granger, she was on her own, and looked to be doing so quite well. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, stepping onto the first stair. Blaise grinned. He quite liked the change in the girl.

* * *

**AN: Well, there you go. Another update. I'll be back later today to update again... I just have some chores to do first, unfortunately. Well, I hope you enjoyed... review! And check out my other fics! **


	9. Early December

**AN: Dearest readers, I am back sooner than I planned to be. And I like it. Here's your next installment of The Eighth Year. Enjoy!**

Hermione Granger was, for the first time in a long time, completely distracted. And it was showing. After her breakup with Ron, she'd been thinking constantly about whether it was her own choice or Draco's crafty words. In fact, she'd messed up her potion so badly the other day, that the entire classroom had to evacuate, to get away from the toxic fumes. To be quite honest, it was embarrassing, and her grades were slipping lower than she'd ever seen them before.

One particular afternoon, when Hermione's internal debate was focused on Draco's possible intentions, when he went on that rant, Hermione had spilled her entire bottle of ink on her parchment - twice. Professor Rowe pulled Hermione outside for a moment.

"Dear... you seem to be having trouble lately. Might I ask what's going on?"

"Well, it's just... I broke up with Ron, because of something... a friend said, that put ideas in my head. And it's been difficult, because I don't know if I really wanted to, or if it was because of these ridiculous ideas."

The professor seemed to think for a moment. "You know, he did mention something, the other day... I ran into him walking around the grounds. I think it's best if you just let things go as they are. He's upset, yes, but if you aren't happy, and you get back together... it's just going to cause more problems."

Hermione was a little startled by her response. "Well... thanks, I guess. I've just been having problems in classes, and usually I'm top of the class, everyone's been noticing."

"Don't worry yourself too much about it, dear. You'll get back into things soon enough."

Hermione returned to her seat, satisfied. If even a Professor was backing up her temporary insanity, it must be alright.

* * *

Ron Weasley, however, thought otherwise. In fact, in the time that Hermione's grades had been slipping, his own had been rising considerably - especially in Transfiguration. After their written papers that day, Professor Rowe assigned them a simple transfiguration, turning a mouse into a goblet, and then back again. Ron smirked slightly at the irony - this had been the spell, all those years ago, that he'd mucked up with his broken wand. This time, though, he was prepared. Waving his wand just as Rowe had shown him, Ron's mouse changed effortlessly into a goblet, then back again.

"Excellent work, everyone. Keep practicing." Ron did. When he turned to look around, though, almost everyone else had been having similar times - it was an easy spell, after all. When he saw the one who wasn't getting it, though, it took everything in him to keep from laughing out loud. Hermione was sitting in her seat with such a look of frustration, her mouse hadn't done anything but maybe gotten a little fatter on one side, and stopped squeaking. He turned back to the front to keep himself from being discovered. He waited until Professor Rowe was in front of him, and then did the spell non-verbally.

"Excellent, Weasley. Ten points for Gryffindor."

Ron could have sworn he heard someone huff behind him. And he couldn't have enjoyed it more.

* * *

Pansy was in a similar mood. Whereas before, she'd been feeling neglected by her fellow Slytherins, these days she had meetings in hallways to look forward too, and even Blaise had begun to see her frequently again. On their way to Herbology one morning, it began to rain. Blaise grabbed her arm, and they rushed to the greenhouses, soaking wet.

"Blaise... we could have you know, used a charm or something... to keep us from getting wet."

He stopped for a moment. "There are moments I forget I can use magic. It's strange."

She laughed, taking a seat next to him around the long tables. Glancing around, she saw Draco, sitting by himself at the far end, nobody on either side of him. He'd been getting so weird, lately.

"I know what you mean. Sometimes, it's like I'm not even a witch at all. I woke up a few mornings ago and walked all the way across my dormitory to turn on my heater when I'd woken up an hour or so early, when I could have easily done so by magic."

"Yeah. Funny things..."

As their Herbology lesson wound down, Pansy and Blaise tried to catch up with Draco, who still walked too fast, disappearing around a corner before they had a chance to stop him.

"Ahh, well, off to double Potions anyway... with the Gryffindors..." Blaise didn't grimace, as he usually did, but had an odd sort of face on. Pansy, thinking not much of it, as all she'd heard out of that statement was 'Gryffindor', simply made a little humming noise, leaping gracefully down the first four steps. Blaise followed. Once they'd finally reached the bottom step, there was a group huddled outside of the dungeon classroom. Apparently, Professor Slughorn hadn't shown up yet.

Oh, how she wanted to go stand with Harry. How badly she wanted to just be able to put her head on his shoulder again, to talk about anything in the world, but she couldn't, really. Nobody else knew, and they planned on keeping it that way for as long as possible. Not that there was anything to hide, necessarily... they'd just been talking...

"Pansy!" Blaise looked at her, confused.

"Yes?"

"I've said your name close to ten times already. Distracted?"

"You could say that..." The door opened, and the students filed in. Sitting on the far side in the back corner, as they usually did, Pansy and Blaise took their seats. Pansy had never noticed before that she had quite a good view of the Gryffindor side of the classroom... one desk in particular...

And before she could turn away, he raised his head. Green eyes bore into her own brown ones, and she felt her face flush. Thank Merlin it was dark in here. He lifted his hand, waving slightly and, apparently, trying not to smile. She did the same, but instead gave her widest smile she could. He looked back down at his paper, and she could swear she could see him still smiling...

"Pansy? What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing, Blaise... just a little distracted."

* * *

Luna Lovegood sat in the middle of her DADA lesson. It had been nearly four days since she'd dueled Professor Wood, leaving the note taped to the underside of his desk. Hopefully he'd found it by now. It was only two days before she was due to meet him at the Quidditch pitch where he'd first hit her with a Bludger. She hadn't gotten a letter, or spoken to him privately, since then. It was up to him to figure out where they were supposed to meet. If he couldn't, that was just too bad. Maybe that Gryffindor should think a little more like a Ravenclaw.

* * *

Ginny sat in her dormitory, sorting through her things. There had to be something to wear, something that would make him look at her differently... aha. A lightbulb went on, and she pulled a black sweater out of the bottom of her trunk. That would do. Tonight, she was meeting a sixth year Ravenclaw, who she'd mistaken for a seventh year. He was tall, with olive skin and dark hair, dark eyes that she caught looking at her every day or so... These meetings, for Ginny, were not unusual. Since she'd left Harry, she'd had a bit more... freedom. And she used it to her advantage, snatching up some alone time with several boys around Hogwarts. She didn't consider it trashy - she just took advantage of the single status she had. And the single status they had. And the room of requirement...

She left her dormitory, pulling the sweater down over the waist of her jeans, which just pulled it lower down on her chest. She smirked. There was still an hour left before she had to be back in the dormitories. Turning a corner, she saw him, dark jeans and a green thermal, pacing. He looked nervous.

"Honestly, Peter, don't look so nervous... someone will suspect something."

"Of course, Gin... come on then."

She lead him up the stairs, taking them almost two at a time. Setting her bag down outside the apparently empty stretch of wall, she finally convinced the room to open for her, as she'd done many times before. As soon as the door closed, there was no turning back. He pinned her against the wall, biting at the bit of her neck just above her collarbone...

---

Forty-five minutes later, they left, messy hair and out of breath. She told him to walk ahead of her to his own common room, while she went upstairs to the Gryffindor section. She stopped at the top of the stairs, pulling a small piece of parchment from her bag. On this list were several names.

Seamus  
Peter  
Nameless 7th year Hufflepuff  
Ernie MacMillan  
Zacharias Smith  
Dean

Next to Dean were three hashmarks, and now next to Peter, she scratched in a third as well. She'd made that move on Longbottom, who she'd scratched out because he hadn't returned anything, and that was her only failure. Smirking, she stuffed the list back into her bag, and smoothed her hair, walking straight through the common room to her dormitory. She was quite tired...

* * *

Neville Longbottom sat alone at the Gryffinor table in the Great Hall. He'd been studying for far too long, it was about time to be back at his dormitory by now, and yet he couldn't concentrate long enough to finish even two inches of this latest Herbology paper, one he normally could have finished in half an hour. He heard footsteps behind him, but did not turn to look until he heard that they were less than three feet away...

Heather sat next to him, smiling.

"There you are, Neville. I haven't seen you in a few weeks... where have you been?"

Neville motioned to the parchment in front of him. "Studying, loads."

"I see. Herbology? I just finished mine, I was in the library."

"Mind helping me for a minute or two?"

"Wouldn't mind at all."

She pointed out an error or two, and helped him write nearly half of the paper. They were definitely late for curfew now.

"Thanks, Heather... look, we should hang out again soon..."

"I agree. Next week some time? I'll know more when I see you next."

"Alright." They walked to the stairs together, and when Heather reached the floor for Ravenclaw, she almost turned and walked away. But Neville was smart - he put his arms out, and she jumped forward, hugging him.

"I'll see you next week, Longbottom." She gave him a bit of a wave, and then left. He climbed the stairs that night in good spirits.

* * *

Draco was also in good spirts. Since Hermione's "It's not your fault" declaration, and even before that, he'd seen her slipping in classes and not doing well. This of course was not the reason he was in good spirits. That was due to the fact that he had just the way to cheer her up.

"Hermione. Come out." He rapped on the door, she finally answered.

"Why?"

"Because you've been holed up in there, studying, for days. You need some air. Or some, you know, human interaction."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I know what I need, Draco. Just let me be."

"Can't do that. Get dressed, you. We're going for a walk."

His last statement was what did it. Perhaps she was so startled that Draco knew what going for a walk was, perhaps she was startled that he was going with her, but she shut the door, tossing through her trunk to find something to wear. An emerald green sweater, dark jeans, her boots, and her large winter coat. She smoothed over her hair, then stopped. Who was she trying to impress? Grabbing her scarf, she turned the knob. Stepping out, she found that he was already ready, waiting for her beside the exit from their sitting room. "Come on then, Hermione. We have to make a stop before we go out."

Wordlessly, she walked beside him, her brows slightly furrowed. This was quite possibly the oddest thing that had happened to her so far. Draco led them downstairs to the kitchens, where a house elf was just finishing preparing two large paper mugs of cocoa. The elf nodded to Draco, handing them over. Draco thanked him, (that was, perhaps, even stranger) and handed one to Hermione. She hesitated.

"It's not going to bite, Hermione. Just take it. It'll keep you warm outside."

And it did. They walked outside, circling the castle a few times before venturing off elsewhere. For nearly the first half hour, they were completely silent. The cocoa was finished, he vanished the cups and then walked closer to her.

"Look, Hermione... I brought you out here for a reason. I stepped over the line, a few weeks ago, when I said those things about Ron and Harry. I shouldn't have said anything."

This confused her even farther. "But, Draco... I think you were right. Ron was... Ron treated me like a girl, after all these years, but not like his girlfriend. Harry's changing, I'm not sure what's happening to him but he's rather quiet lately, like his head's lost in a dream... but don't blame it on yourself. They were already like that, I just didn't see it."

He was silent.

"Draco?"

"I heard you. It's just... a bit to take it. I thoroughly thought you might hate me after the things I said. Even after you said it wasn't my fault."

"Well, it isn't. And you may have stepped over the line just a bit, but I'm glad you did."

Silence, again."

"And Draco... I actually want to say thank you. It's taken me weeks to realize this, and I think I'm just getting it now, but... it's really going to be better this way. I can start focusing on classes again. And Head student duties. And I don't have to worry about Ron and Harry all the time, I can visit them and have it not be weird... or well, too weird."

"That's... good. I'm glad to hear that."

They stopped walking. Something seemed stuck, like she'd said something she wasn't supposed to. Hermione got the oddest sensation, as if she wanted to hug him... and so she figured she would. Stepping in front of him, he had a curious look on his face. She laughed at him, putting her arms out. "I'm not going to bite."

"Damn... I might have liked that." His facade broke, he smiled, putting his arms around her waist. Her arms went around his neck, and he could feel her hot breath just next to her hands, tickling him... it was the oddest sensation, and he quite liked it... he was hugging Hermione...

Stepping back, he shook his head. "Come on, Granger. It's freezing. More time for sappy hugs in the sitting room, I suppose."

She swatted him, taking his arm and heading back inside. Maybe this strange situation wasn't pulling them apart... it was pushing them closer together.

* * *

Blaise found Pansy just as she was leaving the common rooms. Crossing the courtyard to Herbology again, he thanked his lucky stars that it was not still snowing, only three or four inches covered the ground beneath them. Just ahead of them, Ginny Weasley crossed, and he waved to her. "Ginny."

She nodded back. "Blaise."

She passed, and he smiled. Breaking out of it, he looked back at Pansy, who had been saying something about an essay due soon...

"Blaise? Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

"What do you think you're seeing?"

"Don't be like that with me. You like Ginny Weasley."

He felt his face flush. Thank Merlin for dark skin. "I do not. She's merely... a new acquaintance. Things have changed since the war. She's different now."

"I'm sure. Different in the way that you now find her attractive, and kind, and funny..."

"I take it you know the feeling. I've seen you smiling more lately than ever before."

"Hush. I'm just... in good spirits. That's all. I do like the snow."

"Snow does not make you completely lose concentration in perfectly fluid conversations."

"Shut up, Blaise Zabini, or so help me..."

"You started it."

She froze, then followed him. "I did, didn't I. Let's make a deal then. No saying anything. As we both obviously like other people... I won't say anything about yours being Ginny."

"Shouldn't I get to know who yours is, then?"

"Not at all. Mine... nobody knows."

"Not even Draco?"

"Not even him. Only myself. And besides, I figured yours out on my own!"

"She was right there!"

"Well, we actually see the guy I like quite often, so you should be able to guess easily, if you pay enough attention."

"Fine. It's a challenge." Pansy rolled her eyes, shaking his outstretched hand. "Fine. I can't say anything, you have to guess. Whatever."

He nudged her and she smiled again. His best friend was a right pain in the arse.

* * *

Oliver had still not figured it out. It was less than three hours before he was due to meet Luna wherever she'd picked, and he hadn't the slightest idea what she'd meant by her clues. Pacing, he decided to write her a letter.

_Luna, _

_For the life of me, I can't figure out your clues. I've come up with fifty possibilities, none of them seem to fit all four clues. I'm begging you, just tell me, before I miss our meeting. _

_Oliver. _

He walked the halls for a moment before seeking out a younger Ravenclaw boy.

"Charles! There. I've a letter for Luna Lovegood. Can you get this to her?"

"Sure. I think she's in the common room now."

"Excellent. Just get this to her, as soon as possible. And if you can get a response out of her, I'll... I'll cancel your essay for next week."

The boy's face lit up. "Perfect! I'll be back soon! Reply in hand!"

And fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on Oliver's door. Surely enough, it was the youth from before.

"Professor Wood! Here's her letter back. She was laughing the whole time she wrote it. Rather odd..."

"Thank you, Charles. Your next essay is gone. I'll see you in class." The boy ran off, obviously eager to tell his classmates that he'd gotten the essay removed. Oliver sat at his desk, grabbing the peacock quill from his drawer.

_Oliver, _

_I'm afraid I can't give you the answer to the clues. If you can't figure it out, we can't meet. I'll watch from a window, as it's quite cold outside. I'll wait until 9:30. If you haven't shown up, then I guess we'll have to wait until class next week. _

_Luna _

That girl was going to kill him one day, he was sure of it.

* * *

Harry sat in his dormitory. In just a few minutes, he'd be walking down the stairs, to that hallway again. He got up, pulling a sweater over his head. He pulled a small mirror out of his trunk, messing around with his hair until he felt that it sat right. It still wouldn't lay flat. He paced, pulling at his sweater, changing it, changing back, until at last he knew he had to go, or he'd have no time at all.

Once downstairs, he slid down the wall, as usual. He was alone. So why did he feel like he had been preparing to see someone? Then it hit him. Pansy. He'd waved at her that day in Potions, and he'd tried to get his hair to cooperate, for her. This could not be happening. It was Pansy Parkinson! They'd talked quite a few times, sure, and that last time, she'd sat next to him in the hall, and put her head on his shoulder, and she'd smelled pretty...

He had no more time to convince himself that he was not attracted to Pansy Parkinson, however, because at the moment, she skipped around the corner, smiling slightly.

"Potter."

"Parkinson."

Like last week, she sat next to him. He accepted her new place in the hallway beside him, silently. It was best not to mention anything about it now.

* * *

**AN: Yay, another chapter done. I'll have another one up tomorrow. I'm also updating Take Two tonight, and possibly What Might Have Been. If you like The Eighth Year and want faster updates, REVIEW. Also, take the poll on my page. Whichever story gets the most votes/reviews will get the most updates. Cheers! **


	10. Late December

**AN: Dearest readers, I am back again. I've gotten a message or two and a review saying that the story is moving along slowly. That they want to see more looooove, already. Well, here's the deal. I know. And I want to write it, too. I'd love to post you a chapter full of everyone finding their happy ending all at once, full of I Love Yous and fluff and kisses. BUT. That's not how things go in reality. It takes a while. People are nervous. I just turned 19, I know how it feels to be 18 and in school and nervous about anyone finding out that you like someone. That's how things go. If Draco and Hermione made out for half of the second chapter, I wouldn't have anything to write for the rest of them. I wouldn't have anything to build up to. So I'm building up to the big finale, the grand culmination of the school year and it's activities. Granted, I'm not going to do all of the endings in the last chapter. A couple or two will find their happiness in the next three chapters or so. One couple won't find happiness at all, but instead some sort of understanding. It's how things would really go, and I really intend to stick to that in this story. Sorry for the really long AN, but I had to explain some things for anyone else who was feeling the same way. If you want automatic fluff, go read some one-shots. If you want a real story with a lead up to one fantastic kiss, one moment of bliss, stick around. I won't disappoint. **

**

* * *

**Draco Malfoy was alone again. At Malfoy Manor, there were not frequent family gatherings, and it wasn't as if they were the type for a game night or watching a film. Draco sat alone in his bedroom thinking about, oddly enough, school. He honestly missed Hogwarts, and this year he was admitting it to himself and to anyone else who might ask. His father was in his study, his mother visiting relatives Draco didn't want to see. It was just him, then, and his school books.

He pulled out his copy of Hogwarts: A History. Opening the cover, the spine cracked, and he laughed. He'd never opened the book. Which was slightly odd, considering his roommates obsession with it...

Hermione. When at last the first thought of her came into his head, he could not stop the rest of them from coming as well. Helping each other with homework. Reading by the fire. Snacks ordered up from the kitchens. Meetings with teachers. Their recent spat about Ron and Harry. And then, a final thought came to him, of taking a walk around the grounds, of Hermione's arms around his neck and his around her waist. He smiled, remembering that she smelled quite nice... then he shook his head. This was still Hermione. Still Granger. They'd fought for each of the six years that she'd been at Hogwarts. They'd fought when they saw each other during the final battle. And they'd fought when they first found out that they were going to be head students together. But now, things were different. She wasn't the mudblood, Potter's friend, the enemy. She was Hermione, sometimes funny, usually quite odd and absolutely brilliant. He thought of how they always said Goodnights to each other now, how they always said good morning and walked to breakfast, beginning their day together. Together. Something about that word pulled at his heart...

He shook his head again. It couldn't be possible. And if it was, it was a right laugh. But within a few moments, he realized it was true. After all of this time, hundreds of miles apart, he had to admit - he missed Hermione Granger.

* * *

Harry sat at the kitchen table of the Burrow. He'd been rising early to go for a walk or fly for a short while on his broomstick. There were so many different sides to being here for the holidays, negative and positive both.

For one thing, there was Ron. Harry had come along mostly because he felt that if he spent some quality time with his best friend, he might be able to cheer him up still, or at least get it out of him what was bothering him so much. When he'd told Ron he was coming, he was skeptic. Harry could read the look on his face, clear as day, saying 'I really don't think that's such a great idea at the moment.' But Harry had never been one to avoid confrontation...

Which lead to another thing. Ginny. While Harry would be spending the holidays with Ron, it also meant spending them with Ginny. They hadn't spoken much since she left him, a polite hello only when necessary, an argument once or twice. And it was, to be quite frank, highly awkward for Harry. It was still, after all, his ex-girlfriend, besides being the daughter in his favorite family.

Ron poked his head around the corner. "Can I talk to you for a moment? You're not going to like this..."

Harry looked quizzical, but Ron simply shook his head. "I can't answer anything yet. Just come here." They climbed the stairs back to Ron's bedroom in silence. Harry wondered with every step what could be such a bother that, for once, Ron Weasley was actually being completely serious. Ron opened the door, then shut it behind Harry, locking it.

"Harry. I've... found something. I was doing laundry. Ginny had her school bag in there for a wash. And there was some parchment... I had to owl Dean, as well."

Ron picked up Ginny's worn school bag, flipping it open to retrieve something from a pocket. Harry took the folded scrap from him, it looked like it had been carried around for quite some time, wrinkled and bent at strange angles.

"But what is it?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but... there are names."

"What sort?"

"Just open the parchment, Harry!"

And so he did. Immediately, he saw a list of boy's names at Hogwarts.

Seamus  
Peter X X X  
Nameless 7th year Hufflepuff  
Ernie MacMillan  
Zacharias Smith  
Dean X X X

Harry eyed the list curiously. It was all boys. They were all at least seventh years. One didn't have a name, but he was on this list. They were all relatively distant from Ron or himself, save for Dean and Seamus, two of their dorm mates. Harry put the paper down on the bed, looking at Ron, who'd pulled a letter from his pocket. "And this is what I got back from Dean..."

_Ron, I got your letter this morning... I'm not entirely sure about the parchment, but I do know that if it's what I think it is, you won't be terribly happy. You said that there were three marks next to my name, and if this is true then I know exactly what she's, well, counting. Please don't hex me for this next bit, but we've been seeing each other again, just for a night... well, for four nights. My name, plus three marks... are you getting it now? I had no idea there was a list, or that it was with anyone but me, but apparently you've got the evidence right in front of you. There's really nothing else it could be - _

Harry had intended to finish the last line of the letter, but had a feeling he knew what it was anyway. The door flew open. Wild-eyed and angry looking, Ginny looked first at Harry, then Ron.

"Ronald Weasley, where is my schoolbag?"

"Right here. I did laundry, today." Ron pointed to the list beside Harry, who took the opportunity to examine his bare feet.

"So I see. I need that back. Now."

"Hold on now, little sister. I'm assuming by now you know that I found what you had in there."

"Ron, don't..." She took a step towards her brother, one hand on her hip. Her wand was there, Harry knew it's where she carried it.

"Then you shouldn't have. I owled Dean. I know what's been happening. I've just told Harry."

"Why did you have to tell him?"

"He deserved to know why you left him!" Ron was angry now, worse than Harry had ever seen him.

"Oh shut up, Ron. You're just bitter because Hermione's left you, and now to make yourself hurt a little less than someone else, you've had to go and out me to the entire world." Ginny looked smug, but didn't think her point helped her case at all.

"Don't act like the victim here, Ginny! You're the one... sleeping around!"

"Ron Weasley! Don't you dare accuse me..."

"Dean's told us himself! Don't be such a fool, Gin. Take your list, and your bag, I don't want anything of yours, including yourself, in my room. You're filthy." He tossed everything back to her, including the letter from Dean. "And have a go at the letter, we know what's been happening."

Ginny grunted, reaching onto Ron's dresser and throwing something at him before slamming the door behind her. With the unerring skill of a usually great Keeper, Ron caught the object, which turned out to be a cup. "Been meaning to take this down to the kitchen anyway. Harry..."

"Don't, Ron. Not now."

"I understand this is... difficult, but... oh hell, this is Hermione's area... but she's not here." Harry heard the bitterness in his friend's voice at that last bit.

"Ron. Later. I need to think this through."

"Alright. Well. Go back to what you were doing before then."

When Harry got back downstairs, his tea was cold.

* * *

Neville was in a much better mood, however, from a letter that he'd received that morning. It was from Heather. Before he even sat down, Gran was at the table with lunch and tea. Neville took a bite, opening the letter.

_Neville - You told me to write you over the Holidays, and so I am. There's not much else to say, other than I do miss Hogwarts, and walks with you around the grounds. I've really got to catch up on my Herbology work though, it's my best subject but sometimes I forget to do the work because I already know the answers! Do write me back. At length. I'm ridiculously bored. -Heather_

Neville asked Gran for some parchment and a quill. Heather was definitely growing on him, and if it meant ignoring the attention he was getting from the other girls, then so be it.

* * *

Blaise heard a deep voice, followed by a shrill laugh. He rolled over. It was nearly three in the morning, and his mother had one of her "friends" over, a rather handsome older man who had already given her an intricate, expensive looking diamond necklace for Christmas. Blaise sat silently through three nights of dinners with the pair, ignoring everything either of them said. At this point in his life, he was tired of his mother's antics. He himself knew she was guilty of whatever people assumed about her missing husbands, and it looked as if this new one was headed the same way. Blaise thought to warn him, but the idea made him laugh. He knew they'd be married within the year, and he'd be gone within a year after that. But what could he do?

He rolled over again, drifting to sleep. He fell into a dream in which he was walking the halls of Hogwarts, his arm around a petite girl with pale skin and freckles. He looked into her face, but it was featureless. The only thing that could enable him to discern exactly who she was, was the bright red color of her hair...

* * *

Hermione got a letter early in the morning the day after Christmas. It was from Harry.

_'Mione_

_I should have written to you sooner, but I got swept up in the mess of Christmas at the Burrow... Anyway, there's been a bit of a problem here, and I just feel like I needed to vent to someone. As I can't vent to the other person I've been talking to lately, I figured you would be better for this anyway. Ron did the laundry, washed Ginny's school bag... and there was a list inside. It's a list of names of boys at Hogwarts, six names I think, and two of them have three marks next to them. One of those names was Dean, so naturally, Ron stuck his nose in it and wrote to Dean, who automatically knew that the number indicated on the list was a number of times that he and Ginny had... been together in the year. I don't know what to do. Please help. _

_Harry_

It broke her heart to read a letter from him such as this one. She grabbed fresh parchment and a quill, sitting down at her desk.

_Harry, _

_I'm terribly sorry to hear that, I can't imagine what that must feel like. It's really shocking, even though I haven't heard much from her lately. Which brings me to a second point. I feel absolutely pathetic, I haven't been good to you or to Ron these past few months, and I apologize. Head Girl work has taken my life, and when I'm not working... I'm actually spending time with Draco. He's been fantastic, taking me for a walk, helping me de-stress, bringing snacks or hot chocolate to me when I'm working on homework... it's strange, really, but not bad. I'll have to tell you more when we get back to school. Next year we'll all have better holidays. Cheers. _

_Yours, Always.  
Hermione_

She tied the scroll to the owl's leg, petting it and sending it on its way. She hoped she meant what she wrote.

* * *

A few days earlier, Oliver Wood stood in front of a mirror in his quarters, straightening his tie. It was the night of Slughorn's christmas party, and as staff, he'd been invited. He mussed up his hair - he hadn't had a chance to trim it in a while, and it was now slightly shaggy - and left his office, navigating the halls until he found the right office. The door opened before him, and he was met with a wave of chatter hitting him at full force. Several older students were dressed as waiters and servers, Slughorn himself was in a rich velvet smoking jacket, and various students and staff were mingling and laughing, the spirit of the season catching up with them after a long term. Oliver let out a breath, slipping through the crowd to find a nervous looking seventh year Ravenclaw boy with a tray of canapes.

"Todd?"

"Professor Wood! Would you like one?"

"No, dear boy. Just came to say a little hello. I've just arrived."

"It's a large party, sir. And I'm a little overwhelmed."

"I can imagine. I felt like turning and running as soon as the door opened." He shot a look at the boy, who laughed.

"Yes, it's quite loud. I'm almost glad I wasn't fully invited, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"I don't know either at this moment. Have you seen anyone from your class?"

"Only one, sir."

"And who might that be?"

"Luna, sir. And she's right behind you."

Oliver wheeled around and saw her in an instant. She was no more than twenty feet away, carring a champagne glass and thinking aloud.

"Alright, Todd. I'll see you when class resumes. Luna!"

She did not hear him until the seventh call. "Oh, Professor Wood! How nice to see you. Why didn't you go back home for the Holidays?"

"Not much back at home, really. Yourself?"

"Same, I suppose. My father went missing after the war. I didn't want to be totally alone."

"I'm sorry to hear. Are you here with anyone?"

"No, Professor Slughorn's invited me this year, since I came with Harry last year. I also presume that his party is much smaller than it was last year. He might have needed the extra people."

"Ah. I see. So, I couldn't figure out your clues."

"No, you couldn't. But I'm prepared to forgive you. If you can get to my next meeting..."

"Luna, please, no more riddles..."

She laughed. "No, no riddles and no clues. Just a time and place."

He sighed. "Excellent. Brilliant. Now just watch, this time I'll get lost or something..."

She laughed even harder this time, reaching out a hand and grabbing his arm to steady herself. As soon as she touched him, he stopped slouching, straightening up and remaining as still as possible. His breathing became shallow. His pulse quickened. The place where her cool hand touched his arm felt a hundred degrees hotter than it should have. She let go, and he relaxed, letting out a breath.

"Oliver... or." She looked around. "I should call you professor out here, shouldn't I? Anyway. I've written you a special letter. Not special with the types of quills, but... oh, you'll figure this one out. It's not that hard."

"I thought you said no riddles?"

"No riddles. Just spectrespecs." She pulled the pair right from the top of her head, folding them up and sticking them in his shirt pocket. "They'll help you see."

He patted his chest where the odd little frames lay. "I sure hope so. Have an excellent time at the party, Luna."

"I'll try, professor. You as well." She whispered this last part in his ear, and stepped back, smiling at him and waving as she walked away.

Oliver let out another breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He looked around the party, trying to find someone to talk to. He finally settled on listening to Professor Trelawney rant about her centaur competitor. All that night, he looked over her hunched shoulders, hoping to catch a glimpse of platinum blonde hair or silver dress. When after an hour he'd seen neither, he decided to leave. He'd had enough cheer already to know that he needed nothing more from this party. Though he might stop Todd on the way for canapes...

* * *

Ron lay in bed, tossing and turning. It was just a few nights before he was set to go back to school, and after all that had happened during the holidays, he was glad to. Harry was already asleep, snoring softly and drooling slightly on one of Ron's spare pillows he'd been using when he stayed at the Burrow. He replayed the confrontation over and over again in his head, but... nothing made sense. He couldn't think like that of Ginny, of his younger sister. She couldn't be... doing those things with all of those boys. It was impossible, wasn't it? Too many thoughts filled his head. Within moments, he decided to not talk or think about it at all until he returned to school. He knew exactly who he could talk to, as well. He'd just have to stay a little while after Transfiguration the next week...

* * *

**AN: If I could type out a whistle, I would. This chapter was actually shorter than it was when I first wrote it. I tore out two entire sections (Luna and Oliver) and re-wrote them as one. If I'd done both the party and the meeting, it might have lasted up to 5,000 words, and that wasn't a good thing. I'll put that bit into the next chapter, which should be up soon as it was the poll winner. Review! Cheers!**


	11. Early January

**AN: My hiatus was slightly shorter than planned. Updates are still going to be slow for a while - no computer means no posts, which makes me sad. Anyway, here's the next installment in The Eighth Year. It's going to be the longest yet, long enough to keep your appetite for this fic full until next time! Enjoy!**

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* * *

**

Hermione could not help but feel that everything was going terribly wrong. What with the letter from Harry and Ron, and her frustration in classes and as Head Girl, she was a bit nervous setting foot onto platform nine and three quarters. In her reply to the letter, she hadn't promised that she'd spend more time with them, or that things would return to normal - she already knew that neither was directly possible at the time. She couldn't jump back into their lives without causing too much commotion, and things would never return to the way they were - after the breakup with Ron, how could they ever be? She sighed, leaning up against a wall, and attempted to blend in with the brick behind her. She closed her eyes. In the past few months, she'd come far from the girl that answered every question in class, that never held back from challenging professors or classmates, the girl that knew everything and didn't doubt any part in her life. Now? Now, she had to admit to herself that she knew absolutely nothing about anything important. Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Charms, Herbology - all the answers came jumping to the front of her mind, clear as day. But friendship? Responsibilities? Common sense? She was clueless.

She sighed again, and as she did, she opened her eyes. Instantly, she caught a flash of brilliantly pale blonde hair, and the jump in her chest threatened to teach her a new lesson about something she didn't want to learn about just yet. She pulled her back from the wall, hiking her bag farther up on her shoulder and saying a last goodbye to her parents before diving into the crowd in front of her, weaving in and out before she saw him agan.

"Draco!"

He turned his head, and she stuck an arm up. "Over here! Can you see my arm?"

"Over the heads of younger students? Barely. Stay right there, I'll come get you. We have to meet in a compartment with a few of the staff..."

She heard his words, but had no idea how far he was. The sea of students she'd been swimming in was pressing closer in on her, threatening to swallow her whole. Hermione had always been claustrophobic - this was not an ideal situation. Her breaths came shallow and fast, and visions of being enclosed filler her mind, the only free part of her being a small hand, raised above the taller students around her, waving frantically for the savior she could not see. At last, she received some sign that he was there - but it was not at all as she expected. His fingers found hers, and he pulled her hand down out of the air, putting his other hand on her shoulder. Her eyes opened and he was just inches from her. Suddenly, all the claustrophobic tendencies she had were gone - the space around them had seemed to clear, it was just the two of them in some imaginary bubble at Kings Cross station. His hand was still clasped around hers, fingers intwined. He smiled.

"Come on then. They're waiting for us."

He did not let go of her hand as he led her onto the crowded train, steered them through clusters of excited students, maneuvered them towards the right compartment. And when they were almost separated, and his fingers seemed to squeeze hers almost imperceptibly tighter, she felt that jump in her chest again and smiled. Draco had gone from being her tormentor - calling her names, making her times at Hogwarts sometimes downright unpleasant - to her companion, her protector - pulling her around when he knew she was claustrophobic, bringing her hot chocolate and listening to her rants. He really had changed. At the very least, she had to give him that.

* * *

As soon as he was back in the castle, Harry was on a mission. He flew up to his dormitory, combing out his unruly hair and straightening his tie and glasses. His place of solitude, of quiet, was in this castle. He'd been missing it over the holidays - and the companion he'd gained there. He grinned, shaking his head as he realized he made a very unlikely friend in Pansy Parkinson. He was pondering the possibilities, still having a hard time believing any of it, when he came to a halt at the end of corridor. Now, of all times, he needed someone to talk to. But she was not always there. She showed up, perhaps, once or twice a week, sometimes more or less. This was the first day back. Would she know to come? Would she want to see him? Would any of this ridiculous worrying come to her, as well? He shook his head again, starting off down the stairwell. Harry knew one thing - or rather, he made a guess in his head. If Pansy showed up tonight - peeking her head around the corner, sitting directly across from him, cocking her head and listening intently to his every musing - something more was to come of it. Something more was to come of the harmless flirting, the inside jokes and the closeness they'd gained in the past visits. He smiled at the thought - of something being destiny again. Previously, his only destiny, his only future, had been filled with Voldemort, with dying. But now, it could be full of something else - what exactly, he could not yet be sure. He turned the last corner, throwing himself down the wall to sit under his usual portrait, smiling and nodding to the others that called out to him.

He waited half an hour. Then another. Well over an hour later, Harry was beginning to lose hope. She was usually here by now. She was usually already sitting with him. But this hallway was silent, except for the musings of a few old portraits.

He was almost done. He had almost completely given up on her showing up. He rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes and releasing a breath. He'd been foolish to have such high hopes. He set a palm on the ground, hesitating just a few minutes more before he would push himself up and leave the hallway, his head still full of thoughts. It was those few minutes that changed everything.

* * *

Pansy spent nearly an hour preparing. She'd rushed down to the dungeons as soon as she'd set foot on the grounds again, and hadn't come out of her dormitory since. She'd missed dinner, and she didn't care. She changed her sweater, then changed back into her uniform. _Better. Seems more casual - like I didn't spend an hour getting ready to go see him._ She brushed out her short dark hair, flipping it slightly and tossing it around. Why did she care? Part of her pretended not to know. The other part, however, spoke to her clear as day. _Oh, right. Because he is ridiculously cute. _She fixed the little makeup she'd put on that morning, hoping she might run into him on the train or on the platform. When neither happened, she knew where she had to go to find him. After finally feeling acceptable, she flew out of her dormitory, her feet making light patting sounds on the stone floors beneath her.

She tiptoed to the corner slowly. She didn't want to scare him. He'd just been sitting there, eyes closed, and she couldn't help but notice that he had long eyelashes. She smiled, pulling herself around the corner and sliding her feet slightly to keep the noise down. When she was just a few feet from him, he pushed himself off the ground to stand. Had he heard her? He hadn't been looking over... he cracked his neck, stepping forward until he almost ran into her.

When he looked up, startled, she knew he hadn't yet realized she was there. She giggled slightly, taking a step back.

"Harry."

"Pansy. I... was hoping you'd come."

"Really?"

"Well... yes."

"I see. Well then, here I am."

"Excellent. Care to join me?" He took the same few steps backward, settling back down on the floor.

"I'd love to."

She moved closer, and eyed two options. She could sit in her normal, usual spot - just across the hall and slightly off to his left, under a portrait of a rather nasty looking old woman - or a new spot, one she thought she might favor even more. With just two steps left, she made her decision, plopping down beside him. He turned to her, a curious look in his eyes, and then smiled. In the silence that followed, his hand fell from his knee and onto the floor - directly over her own. It was like it was meant to happen - his fingers and her own alternating, fingertips pressed against the cool stone. His only slightly warm palm over the back of her hand, resting gently and causing the skin there to burn. She looked back up at him, and neither moved for a moment, before she flipped her hand over to meet his, palm to warm palm. He blinked a few times, looked at her, and then launched into a tale of the drama that had cursed him over the holidays. It took everything in her not to laugh, or to smile, or to shriek in some sort of happy way. Here it was - everything she never knew she'd been wanting - and she had it, literally wrapped up in her hand. She listened intently as always, and when they turned to go, he walked her nearly all the way to the dungeons before finally releasing his grasp. She skipped back to her dormitory, nearly dancing in her final steps to her four poster. Her hand was still warm from where his held it.

* * *

Ginny Weasley was not pleased. Her holidays had been ruined by her nosy brother sticking himself into her personal life, and then dragging her ex-boyfriend into it. It had been a quiet, moody Christmas, and she dared not tell her mother why Ron was so angry with her, or why Harry retired early to their shared room each night. It was just something that Molly would never know, and Ginny did not seem to care. She settled back into her dormitory, straightening her skirt before leaving again to roam the castle. She had a feeling she knew what might cheer her up - though of course, it would be the thing that had started the problem in the first place. She examined her skirt again, folding the waistband over once to shorten it slightly more before heading out the door. She might as well.

In a corridor on the third floor, she ran into Seamus.

"Seamus?"

"Ah, Ginny. Hello. Enjoy your holidays?"

"I suppose. They could have been better. I got into a huge spat with Ron over something completely pointless..." She clasped her hands, staring at the ground in front of her. Seamus closed the distance, pulling up her chin to look at her. She fought back a smile - this was Seamus, around her. When they'd met before, he'd been the protector, so strong when he was normally so strange or sometimes clumsy. He was sure of himself that night - sure of what he was doing, of her. And he hadn't bothered her the next day - she'd liked that the best. It had been for him what it had been for her - a random encounter, physical, and a gratifying experience all around. When she unclasped her hands to grab one of his, leading him around a corner to a deserted classroom she'd noticed on the way over, she knew what was about to happen. And from the smug look he had, a dastardly grin plastered on his face, he did too. When the door closed behind them and he pushed her roughly up against it, slightly knocking the back of her head against it as well, she smiled under the lips that pressed down on her own. It was now nearly nine. The pair did not intend on making it back to Gryffindor Tower before curfew.

* * *

Neville stared down at his plate, not daring to look up. The rest of his holidays had been painfully boring - Gran had insisted on taking him to visit distant relatives, or having her ancient friends over for tea and cards - and he'd spent most of the holiday holed up in his room, coming out only for Christmas, meals, and his cousin Devon. He'd finally returned to Hogwarts looking tired and worn - though he hadn't been doing anything. He was avoiding seeing much of anyone for a day or two, or at least until he looked healthy again. But when he lifted his head slightly to glance around the room, he quickly failed. Heather waved at him from across the room, standing to come meet him at the Gryffindor table. He groaned slightly, but smiled. If there was one person worth outing himself for, it was her.

* * *

Luna leaned back in a chair in the Ravenclaw common room, rubbing her temples. She'd rarely found herself stressed in all her years at Hogwarts, and yet this afternoon she could not seem to clear her mind. It had only been three days back into classes - three days of homework, of routine, of not relaxing and reading and occupying her time the ways she wanted to. She glanced down at the parchment in her lap, empty except for her name and a title - Effective Blocking Tactics. Professor Wood - Oliver, as he preferred she called him sometimes - had assigned only seven inches, but it felt like seventy. She rolled the parchment back up, shoving it into her pocket and gathering her things before standing again. She needed help with his one, and she knew he'd be in his office. She smiled as she remembered that he still had her spectrespecs - she had a spare pair, of course, but the ones he now held for the time being were her first pair, given to her by her father. She hadn't thought twice about lending them to him - it seemed special, and though she'd missed them as the one part of her father that she had left, she felt that only Oliver could hold them. When she knocked on the door, she was relieved to find him answering after just a few short moments.

"Ah. Luna. Come on in." She did.

"Oliver... I assume you realized how to read the last letter?"

He smiled, and she took it as a confirmation. She'd written, in regular ink, a letter to Professor Wood about her concerns with her slipping grades. Immediately he noticed that her lines were much farther apart than they usually were and, taking it as a hint to read between the lines, he's reluctantly donned the spectrespecs, immediately noticing a hidden message between the innocent lines of the first.

_Oliver, _

_In reading this, I assume you've figured out that I meant you to use the spectrespecs on this letter. I think our letters are being watched - you never can be too careful - so I've chosen to do it this way. No spell can reveal the ink, like the peacock feather quills. I've become quite good at Charms such as this. Anyway, I'd just like to let you know I'll be coming by in a few days to get those spectrespecs back, and to talk. I need someone to talk to, and you're supportive and quite nice. I'll be by late, but we can always use our old excuse of cleaning your office or helping with school work. Cheers, Luna. _

"Then, I need you to help me with this essay. I'm having a dreadful time with it."

He retrieved the glasses from his desk and handed them to her before almost starting on the essay. "You don't have to be doing this, you know. Remember? Two months, no work?"

She stared at him for several long moments before laughing. "Oh, you're quite right. I almost forgot. Would have been a big headache over nothing."

"Precisely. So then, let's talk. You said you wanted to talk."

Luna bit her lower lip, wetness already threatening to spill over her eyes even as the thoughts came rushing to her head. She turned towards him on the couch, folding her legs in front of her and hanging her head. "Yes. I've been... missing my father. Terribly. And I never got to say goodbye."

He mimicked her position, their knees just barely touching. The sparks he felt were enough to light up the entirety of the United Kingdom.

"Luna... how long has this been bothering you this bad?"

She looked up and caught his eyes. She could tell he'd noticed she was about to cry and yet, she didn't care. She trusted Oliver with everything she had - something she'd found very hard to do since the war. Harder even so that Oliver was now the only one she trusted, besides Neville.

"Every day. Every waking moment. It's like... I don't know if he's alive somewhere, with no memory of anything. He could be wandering, or living life as a muggle, or doing any number of things. It's all possible. But then the other side of the spectrum... he could be dead. He could have died, and I'd never gotten to say goodbye."

Oliver lowered his head, and she felt the meeting as the tops of their foreheads rested against each other. It was the closest he'd ever let himself get to her, since the night of the first duel. They were still looking down, staring at their feet tangled beneath them, but something in their close proximity made Luna feel as if they were completely connected - eye to eye, person to person, all of the above. She sniffed, and he brought a hand to her cheek.

"Oh, Luna... I had no idea you were having this hard of a time."

"I didn't either, really. I felt things coming at times... I've cried quite a bit over the past few months. But it has... changed me. I don't quite live the way I used to."

"You were so carefree. I remember the lion hat, and the Quibbler."

She smiled. He remembered two of the goofiest things about her. She liked that. "Yes, both of which I'm still fond of. But I don't... believe things like I used to. Of course, I still see Wrackspurts. The spectrespecs don't lie. But I have a hard time with other things. It seemed as if my father was the only other one that believed in them, and now that he's gone... so is the possibility that they exist."

She felt him nod slightly against her. "I see what you're saying. And Luna... know this, at least. If your father was dead... he died proud of you, proud of your fighting for good, and staying loyal to your friends and allies even when he himself couldn't. And if he's alive, somewhere... know at least that he's most likely safe, happy, living life as though the war never happened. He might never have the bad memories again."

This time, she nodded against him. "I guess you're right. Either way... he's in a better place. I just wish I had my daddy back."

"Of course you do, love." He paused slightly, and she wondered if it was because he'd just called her love. He cleared his throat and she smiled slightly, despite the depressing subject. It seemed that was exactly the reason he'd stopped. "Of course you do, Luna." The extra emphasis he put on her name did actually make her smile bigger, and seeing his hands shake slightly through the next bit made her blush - he was nervous around her. "I can't imagine how badly you must want him back. And if I could, I'd bring him back for you, all by myself. But I think what's most important now is looking at the bright side. The happy things. You have your friends - Neville, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny - you're smart, and funny, and an excellent dueling partner. You may have issues writing DADA essays, but... you have me for that. You have me anyway. Always."

The awkward pause after the last line made her think even more. He was quiet again. He only tended to do this when he'd said something he hadn't meant to say. But did it sound a little like... no. It couldn't be anything of the sort. He was a professor, for goodness sake. He was twenty two years old, and she was just seventeen. For all she knew, he had a girlfriend outside of Hogwarts. But when his hand moved on her face to cup her jaw, all of her doubts washed away. He pulled her chin up, and she found he was staring right at her. His own eyes were wet - she had no idea the effect this conversation had had on him until this point.

Their breathing grew shaky as the moments passed. There they were - facing each other, crosslegged and hunched towards each other on the sofa in his office. Tears in their eyes, flushed cheeks, and thoughts flying between them. Unsteady breaths, trembling hands. Hearts pounding.

In an instant, Luna did what she knew she'd been wanting to do for too long. Forget her inhibitions, forget right and wrong, teacher and student, lion and raven. This was Luna and Oliver, and as she leaned forward to press her lips against his, she felt life itself flooding back into her, through her veins and straight to her heart. She feared she'd done wrong only for a fraction of a second, before his hand seemed to cup her cheek just slightly harder, pulling her face closer to his own. As lips parted and met again, a few blissful moments were spent between Luna and Oliver, starting something between them that nobody - least of all themselves - ever could have expected.

When they slowed after just a few short moments - short, sweet kisses trailing after one another - all of the indicators she'd seen before seemed intensified. Her hands were actually shaking now, even as she held his shoulders to steady them. Her breaths came in short puffs, as did his, and she could hear blood pulsing in her ears. She looked at him, and when he finally raised his eyes to meet hers, smiling, Luna knew she'd just gotten her new lease on life - at the time she needed him most.

* * *

Ron, however, was not in such good spirits, though he was in a similar sort of predicament as Luna. The return to Hogwarts had found him anxious, angry, and avoiding all signs of his friends. He was confused - no, he was past that by now. He was puzzled, was more like it. Was Ginny really like that? Had he really been so blind? He couldn't think it out by himself - and he knew exactly who would listen when he needed to talk. The walk to Professor Rowe's office was quick - she opened the door immediately and closed it behind him, a concerned look spread plainly on her face.

"Ron?"

"My sister is... sleeping around. And I've just found out, and Harry was there, and I confronted her. And she yelled at me! And Hermione wrote back to Harry but she still hasn't even said hello to us, and I haven't spoken aloud to anyone in two days."

"That's not healthy."

Her blunt comment startled him, but he had noticed before that she had a dry sort of humor that sometimes confused him.

"I suppose not..."

"You want to know what happened over my break? My ex-husband showed up and took the rest of his things - including the television, and the dining room table, and the couch he'd brought with him, among other things. My flat is nearly empty. And I realized I barely had a life without him. And look where I am now?"

Ron considered his answer for a moment. "Without him?"

"Precisely."

He'd meant it as a question, to dig farther into her story, but it obviously had been an answer as well. "Well, you're here now. Not there."

"And you're at Hogwarts now, not forced to be near anyone you don't want to see. We're in similar spots."

Ron leaned against her desk next to her, not caring that he left little space in between them. It was far from his mind. In just a short minute, she'd comforted him with her own story of a hard holiday.

"That's true. Hogwarts is... better than home, I suppose. I used to dread school, and love any holiday away from the castle. But lately... I've been doing better in classes. And I've been not wanting to see my sister, obviously. Plus home is... not the same. Not without Fred." The satisfacton he'd felt just moments before melted away, skitting across the floor and away from him. He'd forgotten about that - the awkward exchange around the dinner table, the handing out of one less Weasley christmas sweater, though Molly had made one emblazoned with an F anyway. They'd all seen in sitting in her knitting basket, completed in his favorite color and yet to be moved.

"Ah. That puts another damper on things."

"You're telling me."

"Well Ron, all I can say is this - keep your chin up. You fought the war and you won. Remember that the most - you played a key part in bringing down the darkest wizard of our time. That's a huge triumph! And look how much you've improved in studies... I haven't seen anything like it, ever."

He smiled up at her. "Thanks, Professor."

"Any time, Ron." She put an arm behind her on the desk, and without thinking, he slipped one of his own around her waist. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he stood still as stone. Had that just happened? Mentally shrugging, he rested his own head on hers. _Ah, well._ He thought. _At least it's comfortable._

* * *

Draco was in similar spirits. He'd come back to Hogwarts avoiding people who frequently sought his attention - Blaise for one, and Pansy... but come to think of it, he hadn't seen her since the return. That was puzzling. He stepped out of his room to find Hermione in their common room, bits of parchment spread around her and a generally frazzled look on her face.

"Hermione?"

"What?"

"Hello to you too. What's troubling you?" He sat on the only spot of couch not covered by paper. She sighed.

"Sorry for snapping at you. It's just... so many new things came in over the holidays. Issues around Hogwarts. Comments. Concerns. Most of which I don't know how to deal with. I'm sorting them into piles."

"How many, and of what sort?"

"Three. Things staff can handle, things we can handle, and things that are impossible to handle."

"I'll help." He picked up a piece and read it aloud. "Peeves dropped more stinkbombs on first years just before Christmas. Is there anyway to stop his rowdy behavior?" He laughed. "Of course there isn't. Hasn't everyone been trying that for the past century?" He set it down in the 'Impossible' pile and moved onto the next, feeling Hermione's eyes watching him the whole time. When at last they'd sorted through the last of the letters, he realized why she'd been so stressed. "I've overlooked these things at Hogwarts before. Just accepted most of them as part of the charm."

"Apparently, not everyone can."

"I guess so. Want me to go get us some snacks? I'm a big hungry. I could at least use some pumpkin juice."

She jumped, as if startled, and he wondered what it was about his usual offer that surprised her so much. He didn't have to wonder long.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Helping you sort letters? It's our duty... and I enjoy helping you."

"Not just that, everything. I understand the official business, but you... you go above and beyond. You bring us snacks, you actually listen to me complain, you... you look at me differently than you used to."

He hadn't noticed that he'd been looking at her differently, and the thought immediately scared him. He was suddenly unsure of his words, finding language to fail him. He scooted slightly closer to her on the couch, and the fact that she didn't jump away seemed as good a sign as any.

"Hermione... you must know that I... care about you."

She furrowed her brow, and her jaw seemed to drop slightly before her lips curled into a smile. "Am I hearing right?"

"Pardon?"

"You care about me. You, Draco Malfoy. Care about me, Hermione Granger."

"You heard me."

She smiled. "You care about me. You care about me. You care about me."

"Oh, hush. Woman, I just said a few words that I never expected to say, about anyone. Ever. And I've said them. Just..."

"You. Care. About. Me. Sweet little Draco. Sweet, darling little Draco. You have a heart! I have to write the Prophet immediately. The world needs to know."

He turned his head just in time to see her stick out her tongue. She realized he was looking, and retracted it. He smiled, but he pounced anyway, pinning her shoulders down to the couch and lifting himself over her.

"Take it back."

She shrieked, laughing as she struggled against his hands. "Never!"

"Take it back!"

"Make me!" She laughed harder, and it was infectious. He could not help it. He laughed with her, and soon he was laughing so hard that he couldn't breathe, collapsing on top of her and burying his face in her hair. For looking so bushy sometimes, it was amazingly soft, though he could tell that in the past few months, she'd been taming it well. The sudden realization that he'd noticed such a thing halted his laughter at once. He was laying on top of Hermione Granger, their bodies pressed together. He could feel her chest rising and falling beneath his own, her own giggles subsiding as the reality of the situation hit her as well.

Neither moved right away, but after a few awkward moments of staring blankly at each other, Draco clambered off Hermione and sat down next to her again, offering his hand to pull her up again. He regretted helping her up immediately - even the small amount of contact between their hands again was enough to break him. He looked away, straightening the piles before he heard a giggle escape her lips again. He shot her a sidelong glance, and he could swear he heard her whisper, even then. _"You care about me." _

_

* * *

_Blaise sat alone in his dormitory, looking at the empty bed that had once been Draco's. He'd just seen Pansy sneaking into the common room, at least an hour and a half after curfew, and he wondered aloud whether she'd been doing something she wasn't supposed to.

"Of course not."

"Obviously so. You were out past curfew, that's one thing you weren't supposed to."

She had no logic to defeat this, he could see it etched on her face. "Fine. Say what you will."

When the confused look left her, a smile replaced it. Blaise smiled along. "Oh?"

"Shut up, Blaise Zabini, so help me. You still haven't guessed."

"Obviously not. And you haven't guessed mine?"

"Oh, we know I know yours."

"Right. You think you do."

"You are a right pain in the arse, Blaise."

"Funny, I was thinking the same about you not too long ago..."

"Hush. I know you like Ginny Weasley, and you know I like someone as well."

"Someone who you seem to be sneaking out to see at late hours of the night, who distracts you in the middle of classes and makes you totally lose focus even out of class..."

"I thought the challenge was that you weren't supposed to say anything?"

"No, stupid girl. You've mixed us up."

She thought for a moment, and he laughed when he saw the lightbulb go on over her head. "Right. I can't say anything. You have to guess. There's that."

"Exactly. So, seeing as I still haven't guessed who your mystery man is, I'm going to throw out what I know."

"Shoot." She crossed the room, jumping easily into a chair across from him.

"He's not a Slytherin, as all the beds in the dorms have been filled. Unless you're dating that first year in the hospital wing."

She stuck out her tongue. "Of course not. He's our year."

"You've just given me a huge hint."

He watched again as she found herself unable to hide her frustration. "Ha! I'm right. Alright, he's our year. Not a Slytherin. Obviously someone you don't want me knowing anything about, even though you know who I am attracted to. Which means it must be someone completely weird."

"I'm not saying anything more. Goodnight, Blaise."

"You can run, but you can't hide!"

She waved him off and danced down the stairs towards the girls dormitories. He smirked. He hadn't intended on getting such information out of her. But he had. Now it was a simple matter of a process of elimination.

With a grunt, he realized something else. In talking to Pansy, he'd openly admitted - for the first time - that he did indeed like Ginny Weasley. It seemed childish to think of it that way, but he realized that it was true nonetheless.

* * *

Oliver smiled. He'd written Luna a letter with their special quills, on the back of an apparently innocent note about her being tardy to class that day. The reverse side cleared up what may have confused her - no, she was obviously not late and yes, it was just a cover story. It also invited her back to his office at ten that night, and as he heard a light tap on the door just past the hour, he found himself smiling wide. She closed the door behind herself, smiling, and he immediately pulled her closer, running his hands up to cup her face.

"Luna..."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered his name as well. He bent slightly to press his lips to hers just slightly.

"I had to bring you back. After last night... I can't get you out of my head."

"I have a similar problem."

He grinned at her use of the terms, pulling her over to lay over each other on the couch where they sat the night before. The two launched into a conversation about their lives, about what had happened in the years since he graduated. She talked about the strange goings on at Hogwarts, he talked about being recruited and playing for Puddlemere. She asked about the fame, he pointedly gave her the truth - that it wasn't what mattered to him. She admitted, embarrassed, that she'd never learned to fly. He pulled away, startled.

"You're joking, right?"

"I wish I was."

"But... Hogwarts always has lessons for first years."

"I know. But they were postponed in my year for rain... and on the second day, I was sick. When Madam Hooch offered to teach me in November, she never got the chance. The first of the... attacks happened on Halloween."

"So you never got lessons."

"That's what I've just told you."

"This is not right. We need to change that, immediately."

"What are you going to do, grab your broom and teach me to fly right this second?"

"Well, perhaps that might not work. It would be impossible to sneak downstairs at this hour."

"Not so much. Difficult, but not impossible. There are always ways. Well, passageways..."

He eyed her curiously, and she blushed. "Professor, you didn't think I didn't know a secret or two about the castle?"

"There you go with that 'Professor' bit again, even after last night... and I just never pictured you for much of sneaky person."

"I assure you, my sneaking was all done for good."

"Knowing you, I don't doubt it. But Luna... I'm not going to allow you to graduate without first having learned to fly."

"Oliver!"

"That's better. But I'm serious."

"Well, we can't do so in the rain or the snow. And seeing as how the weather has been full of both, lately..."

"We'll just have to wait a little while."

"I suppose so. I think I'm just nervous."

"It's not that scary. It's... invigorating. You'll like it, I'm sure."

"If you say so."

"So it's a date then?"

"Oh? A date? Professor, that's quite scandalous."

He laughed at her use of the word. "It is indeed. But to hell with it. It's going to take another two months for the weather to clear up. You're of age, as am I, and we're not doing anything... we shouldn't."

"Except dating. As teacher and student."

"I was counting on you to not mention that out loud."

She giggled against him, pressing her lips to his cheek. "Oops."

"Ah, no worries. How can I not forgive you, when you're all snuggled up against my side?"

"I never pegged you for the sweet, romantic type."

"And I never pegged you for a troublemaker. You can't judge a book by its cover."

"I suppose so. But Oliver, we're not books..."

He rolled his eyes at her last comment, but he was immediately struck by a thought that she might not be joking. She sometimes missed the real meaning on sayings like that, taking things too literally. He thought it was sweet. He bent his head to kiss her again, and as he did, he caught a whiff of that sweet scent he'd smelled on her so many times before, that intoxicating perfume he'd come to crave being around. He meant to ask what it was, but as she shifted to bring her face closer to his, he completely forgot about it.

* * *

**AN: ALMOST SEVEN THOUSAND WORDS. Oh my goodness. I've never written a chapter so long. Hell, I may not have written two chapters combined that are so long. But I missed writing. I missed this fic, SO MUCH, that I had to come back and OD on it. Oh well. I'm really happy with how it went. And I'm happy with the way the Oliver/Luna thing panned out. If you like that pairing, I suggest you check out another of my fics, 'La Bella Luna', which pulls an idea from this story. Oliver is tired of the fame of playing for Puddlemere, comes back to Hogwarts as a professor. Major differences are that Luna does not have many of her friends at Hogwarts, and Oliver is kind of bitter in the beginning, tired of fans. Should be a good read, I just posted the first chapter tonight. Check it out! I'm also starting to work on the sequel to A Very Merry Christmas - it's going to be good, and after a few chapters of weird, even fluffier than the original. I'm starting my Part 2 to Take Two, which I'm excited about, and starting a Twilight fic as well. Alright, AN has gone on long enough. Review! I'm so glad to be back! **


	12. Late January

**AN: I think we all know by now that The Eighth Year is not something that I can keep away from for long. It's addicting - it fills my head for over an hour a day sometimes, situations playing themselves out and new plot twists forming, the all-important, ever-anticipated Aha! Moment/Dramatic unveiling of everything moment wanting to form itself into better words than I just used, and wanting to be part of the story. Well, it's not happening yet - we're just getting through January - but expect things to get a little more intense now. We just saw a few fleeting glimpses into the starts of a few unusual pairings and relationships, and things can only get weirder from here. For those of you saying that Professor Rowe is 'just alright' or 'not that interesting' or 'a little off', you're all perfectly right to say that. For now. You'll see a side of her in a few chapters that will change that completely - you might even start hating her. You might want to bring her into the real world just so you can kill her. There are those that don't like Ron, who might actually feel for him after this. You'll see. It's going to be a little weird. But keep reading. :3**

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* * *

**

Draco felt ridiculous. He'd been going back and forth in his head for days about what he'd said to Hermione not that long ago. He told her he cared about her - and as they were becoming more comfortable with each other, she'd taken the opportunity to mercilessly make fun of him and pull the situation into something bigger than it needed to be. The only question now was, how big was the situation, really? He cared about her, yes. More than he wished to, at times. And it was beginning to completely rack his brain. It was Hermione Granger. However many times he heard that same statement rush through his mind, it started meaning less and less with each reoccurance. Yes, she was Hermione. And then what? The name did not mean what it used to. The name no longer meant an enemy - it meant something quite different from that. Though for the life of him, Draco could not figure out exactly what that was. It was only breakfast time as these thoughts came to him again. He had a long day of thinking ahead of him.

* * *

Harry was nervous - that much was easy to tell. Just last night, he'd accidentally put his hand over Pansy's on the floor between them - since she'd crossed the hallway - and instead of recoiling, as he'd expected, she'd taken his hand. It had startled him so much that he couldn't think of a bloody word to say to her, and so just began a story of what had happened over the holidays. She must have thought he was mad, but she said nothing. She also, he realized with a grin, hadn't let go of his hand all night, not until he walked her nearly all the way to the dungeons at the end of their time together. He awoke this morning smiling, something that hadn't happened to him since long ago - perhaps two years, maybe more - and he realized with a start that it was entirely because of Pansy Parkinson. He chuckled slightly, taking the last steps down stairs into the potions dungeons, bag over his shoulder and Ron trailing slightly behind.

When he reached the bottom and stepped inside, taking his usual seat next to his now-subdued best friend, he impulsively turned around. When he did, he spotted her - and was surprised to see her looking back at him. She gave him a nervous little wave, as they'd done so many times before, and then turned her head away to Blaise, blushing. Harry grinned again, his heart fluttering awake, and turned to Ron.

"Ron. Things are changing."

"I'll say. Things are so weird."

"I can imagine. And only about to get weirder."

His best friends eyes - tired, but still shining slightly with the laugh that he dared not laugh at that moment - blinked a few times. "You're telling me, Harry. Only about to get weirder... ha."

Class began, and Harry thought that the only thing weirder than the circumstances had been over the past few weeks, was Ron's strange response to Harry's own statement.

* * *

Neville was sitting at breakfast a few days after the run in with Heather. Seamus had joined him again this morning, and was now rambling on about a series of interesting bits of news he'd heard around the castle.

"There's a fourth year bloke who burned his hand pretty bad, trying to show off for his younger brother back home. Nasty burn marks, but how stupid can you be? Not even supposed to use magic at home... bloody idiot. That's not the most interesting thing, though. There's one more thing... I'm sure even you would get a start at this."

Neville sat down his fork, looking up at his friend. "And what might that be?"

"It's about Ginny Weasley."

That did indeed catch his attention. He'd been avoiding her for some time now, since that strange morning she'd made a point of greeting him and touching his shoulder.

"What about her?"

"I thought it funny, after that morning..."

Neville laughed. He'd been thinking the exact same thing.

"But apparently, she's been enjoying her time a little too much since she broke up with Harry, if you know what I mean."

Neville did not immediately understand the implied meaning Seamus had stuck in there. After a few moments of puzzled silence, he lost his apetite. Did that mean Ginny was... no. She couldn't be. Ginny Weasley? The youngest of the red-headed siblings that had been loyal, honest, and fun throughout his years at Hogwarts? He almost didn't believe it. But the devious, far-away look in Seamus's eyes was too much confirmation.

"Seamus... how did you hear about this? I'm sure if it was common knowledge... that it would be all over school by now." Her brother was a war hero. Her ex-boyfriend was another. How could it not be?

Seamus looked away now, biting his lip. "Interesting you ask, really..."

"Seamus. Have you and Ginny...?"

"Not just myself and Ginny, now that I hear more about it. Get a load of this... a few months ago, Ginny and I... well, we spent a little time together. A night, really. And then never spoke of it again. I figured it was random, she was hurting from the breakup or something... but it happened again a few nights ago. And I went to talk to Dean about it. Apparently, it's been happening with Dean too. He told me that he got a weird letter from Harry and Ron over the holidays - and there was a list Ginny had made, of all kinds of nights like that happening. I was afraid Dean was going to be upset that I'd been with his exgirlfriend, that I'd kept something secret. But we had a decent laugh over it."

"Wow."

"They told Dean that there were more that just our names on the list. At least a few more. And I'm guessing, from how she was acting that morning, that you were intended to be next on that list."

Neville drank deeply from his goblet of pumpkin juice. The thought of himself with Ginny Weasley wasn't repulsing, to say, but strange. He could never, ever have done anything with her. It would be too weird. Seamus, obviously, and Dean as well, did not have the same restrictions. As breakfast finished and the pair walked to class together, the topic having completely changed, Neville surmised that it had been an even stranger morning than he'd ever had at Hogwarts.

* * *

It was nearly time for her to leave to meet Oliver, and yet Luna was sitting in the Ravenclaw common room, reading. She'd recently become obsessed with fantasy books - stories about fictional creatures and things that muggles and wizards alike did or did not believe it, mystical beings that would be strange even in the wizarding world. She was in the middle of a chapter about a creature who lived in a lake - one who sounded like some sort of combination between a unicorn and a merperson - when she was interrupted by a younger student.

"Miss Lovegood?"

"That's me. But you can call me Luna. Why do you ask?"

"I have a letter from you. The professor that gave it to me told me to bring it straight to you. And I did. But the scroll is blank... I think he may be going mad."

Luna laughed, taking the scroll he offered. "He's not going mad. It's a little... joke we have, going between us. Thank you."

He left and Luna unrolled the parchment quickly, digging a peacock feather out of the pocket of her robes.

_Luna, _

_I've recently received some bad news from back home. I'm afraid I shouldn't meet you tonight, I'm not in a good state. You wouldn't like to see me like this. I'll see you tomorrow. _

_Yours, Oliver. _

She rolled the parchment up again, sticking it in her schoolbag along with the quill. Of all times, if he'd gotten bad news, this was the time to go see him. And so she did.

When she knocked on the door, she heard a shuffle behind it before it finally cracked open.

"Luna? Didn't you get my letter?"

"Of course I did. But open the door. If you've gotten bad news... what better time for me to come by and comfort you?"

There was silence for nearly an entire minute before the door opened. Oliver was nearly across the room again by the time she stepped in, shutting it again behind her.

"Oliver? What's wrong?"

"You read. Bad news."

"But what happened?"

She sat beside him, his face turned away. She didn't like it one bit, and wanted to fix whatever problem it was that he was having.

"It's... my mum. She's... sick."

"Oh, Oliver... how terrible!" She scooted closer, pulling him down to lay across her crossed legs. "What's the matter?"

"She's been having heart troubles, she tells me. I'm just... I'm worried. I hadn't heard a thing about it because I haven't been to visit her in such a long time."

"That's not good at all. Why don't you go visit her now?"

Oliver stared up at her. He most likely hadn't thought of that before.

"Is there any chance that I could, though? I have a class to teach, and..."

"And I'm sure McGonagall would be perfectly willing to take over for a few days. It's almost nearly the weekend now, you could leave Friday evening and return by Monday or Tuesday... I'm sure missing a day or two would be allowed under such circumstances."

"Possibly. But Luna... I'm just stressed. I don't know what to do."

"There's not much that you can do, except be there for her when she needs you. How long has it been since you've seen her?"

Oliver grimaced. "Almost eight months."

She hadn't been expecting that. "That's much too long. Come on, get some parchment, we'll write something to McGonagall right now..."

And they did. When it was finished, Luna returned to her dormitory, leaving Oliver feeling strangely more relaxed about the whole thing as she left.

* * *

Ron Weasley sat at breakfast, an odd rumbling in his stomach. For the past few weeks, months even, something had been getting at him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He couldn't sleep, barely ate, and found himself distanced even from Harry. Though, now that he thought of it, he hadn't seen Harry in at least two full days, besides classes and the dormitory...

There was a tap on his shoulder. "Weasley?"

He was startled, dropping his spoon into his cereal. Spinning quickly around, he felt the odd feeling grow when he discovered Professor Rowe standing behind him, one hand on her slim hip and a slight grin on her face. "Falling asleep at breakfast, are we?"

"Sorry Professor... you know. It's been a difficult term so far."

"And it's barely just started. Things seemed to go well when you came to talk to me last, why don't we try again tonight. Come after you study, we'll talk about things some more."

"Sounds... fine. Thanks Professor."

When he found himself knocking on her office door later that night, he was surprised to find that she did not answer. He'd been told to come here, hadn't he? He knocked again, and heard a shuffling inside before hearing the lock click over.

"Come in."

Ron opened the door to see Professor Rowe slouching in a desk midway through the classroom.

"Professor?"

"Just call me Delores, please. Come in. I'm just tired."

"Anyone would be. Welcome back to Hogwarts."

She laughed at his little joke, and he smiled. It was nice to have his humor appreciated for once. He sat in a chair beside her, scooting in closer to face her.

"So what's been bothering you now, Ron? Still your sister?"

"Of course. I haven't talked to her since then, but I see her sometimes... and I don't know what to say."

"I wouldn't either. How do you... feel, when you see her?"

"It changes. Sometimes I'm just sad, like I can't talk to her any more or something... but usually I just get kind of angry. I can't believe she'd do anything like this, but she basically admitted to it all, and it doesn't look like she's stopping it..."

"Is it something you think would change if someone talked to her?"

"I don't think so. I mean, Harry and I already tried... even Luna. But she just starts yelling at everybody, like it's our fault!"

"That's rubbish. You and I both know that it's not your fault, alright?"

"I know. It's just... tricky."

"I can't imagine." She stood, signalling that they'd been talking a bit too long. Ron's glance to the clock confirmed it - it had been well over an hour. He stood to follow her.

"I guess I'll be going then... curfew soon and everything."

"That's fine, Ron." As she said it, she leaned back on the desk, nodding him towards the door. "Get back quickly. You don't want a detention."

He stepped to pass her, but the distance between her and the desk in front of her was much smaller than he'd guessed before. His knees were just making it through when he suddenly lost his footing, and he found himself leaning against her. She did not gasp - she indeed seemed to have expected as much - and instead her hands left the desk and found his shoulders.

His hands moved of their own accord, settling on her waist firmly. She was so close. Their upper bodies were pressed together, and he hadn't felt this kind of rush in so long...

As Ron Weasley kissed her, he couldn't tell if he felt excited or nauseated.

* * *

Hermione had pulled a chair as close as she could to the fire. It was nearly time for curfew, and while her classes had been relatively easy compared to the trouble she'd been having lately, she was exhausted. Her book was settled on her lap, legs curled under her and a blanket thrown over. She was wearing black leggings and a plain white t-shirt, with green socks. She threw those in for good color, but they didn't seem to warm her feet as much as she'd hoped. After just a few moments, the door opened from Draco's dormitory.

"Come to join the party?"

"I'm dressed for the occaision." He stepped out in sweatpants and a thermal long sleeve shirt. She laughed, nearly dropping her book.

"Magnificent. I'm so glad you came. The activities for tonight are as follows: too many hours of reading, then too many hours of sleeping, and then a marvelous weekend of relaxation and possibly catching up with my friends..."

"And what else might you be doing this weekend?"

"I didn't know you_ cared_ so much, Draco."

She saw him roll his eyes at the word. Since he'd told her he cared about her, she'd been making fun of him as much as she possibly could. It was, she believed, payback he deserved. Their first six years at Hogwarts had been full of torment, and she could now get her revenge in the least harmful way she could think of.

"You know though, Malfoy, this arrangement has come to be something I don't mind so much. I actually quite like it."

"And I as well, as you know."

"Of course. But anyway, I don't really have many other plans this weekend. Perhaps just a walk around the grounds, catching up on some work I've been missing..."

"You? Catching up? Usually everyone else has to catch up to you!"

"Oh, hush. This is what I get for reminding you that you care about me, isn't it?"

"Exactly. Anyway, what subjects are you behind in?"

"Just Defense, really... and Potions, to be honest."

"I know I can help you with Potions. That was one benefit of being Snape's little pet, I actually learned some important things in that class. Defense... I can probably help you. But honestly... Defense Against the Dark Arts? You should excel at that..." He pulled a chair up to the fire, leaving not more than six inches between the chairs. If he reached out a hand, he could touch her...

"I usually do. I just don't know, with the added stress of being Head Girl, and I hardly ever see Ron or Harry anymore..."

"It's difficult. I understand. My sixth year wasn't exactly easy, either. The most feared wizard of our time had ordered me to kill my headmaster, who was far more powerful than anyone else, or he'd kill myself and my entire family."

"Understood. You probably had it a bit more rough than I did... I never really thought about what that might have done to you..." But it was her hand, not his, that closed the distance between them. Her fingers curled under his chin and her thumb brushed, just once, over his jaw before her whole hand shot back to her side.

"I'm sorry. I... got a little carried away."

He shook his hand. "No, Hermione... no." He reached over, picking up her hand again and putting it flat on his face. "It's... I don't mind."

She grinned. He knew it was coming for him now. "So... you care about me. And you 'don't mind' that I touched your face?"

He rolled his eyes, letting her hand fall to his knee. "No, Hermione. I care about you and it was... comforting. When you... touched my face like that."

Her smile dropped, but only slightly. She saw her hand moving back towards him before she consciously told herself to do so. Her fingers uncurled, laying her palm flat against his face while her thumb stroked his jawline. His eyes shut and for a long moment, there were no sounds in the room except for their breathing. She became immediately aware of the fact that her hand was on Draco's face, and as his eyes fluttered open, she drew her hand back into her lap.

"That was... weird." He squirmed in his seat, his legs crossed beneath him almost identical to her own.

"Really weird." She felt a sudden rush to read her book, and she hid behind its pages for nearly an hour before bringing herself to sneak a peek at Draco at exactly the same moment he'd chosed to do the same. Their eyes met, and she brought the book back over her face, hearing that giggle escape her lips again. _Oh god, what has gotten into me? _

Pansy arrived that night before Harry. Pacing the halls alone, she felt an overwhelming urge to just leave, to hide in her common room and avoid the awkwardness that would follow. But before she could bring herself to do it, he showed up. His tousled hair even more a mess than usual, his tie loosened, one shoe untied, and his glasses slipping down his nose. Glasses that covered those brilliant green eyes...

"Pansy. Hi. Was that weird? When that happened?"

"Was it weird for you?"

"Yeah. It was. I think. I don't... I don't know." He was speaking quickly now, and his nervousness made her smile.

"I think you know."

"How would you know that I know what I don't know?"

"I'll give you ten points, since that actually made sense, and then I'll explain."

"Okay. Go."

"Well... can you explain why you knew to meet me here after the holidays? Or why we keep meeting each other, every night, even though we should be enemies after what's happened?"

"Not... not really. No."

"Can you explain why I've been spending almost a full hour trying to get ready for these meetings, or why I blush furiously when it's finally time?" Pansy had to ask herself where this was coming from. Yes, she was usually daring, a little blunt, but she'd never been this obvious before.

"Not at all."

"I think I might be able to. Though it's painfully obvious. I don't see why we haven't really come out with it before."

"Are you saying..."

"I think you like me. And I'm pretty damn sure I like you too." She could barely breathe now. He was just ten feet away, just down the hall. If she was wrong, she could run. But if not..."

"Oh. Well. Pansy. I..."

"Yes, Harry?" Here it goes. Here it is.

He stepped closer, grabbing her hand and pulling them both down to the floor, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

"I think you're right. And it's brilliant."

Pansy skipped back to the dormitory that night in celebration - she'd come out with it, and he felt the same. But what in the name of Merlin was she going to tell her friends?

* * *

Oliver Wood sat in an uncomfortable seat on a muggle airplane back into London. There was not nearly enough leg room for him - and he was just a few centimeters over 185. This may have been tall for, say, old women and children, but for a normal man, certainly not. He began his internal monologue with bits about how, perhaps, muggles were shorter than wizards. That certainly couldn't be true, he'd seen plently of muggles over the weekend who were perfectly normal size. After he'd seen his mum, he took her home and watched over her for a day or two, cleaning things around her home and telling her about his return to Hogwarts. She was pleased to hear that he'd become a professor. Then his thoughts turned to Hogwarts, and he found himself hiding only one thing from his mother..

Luna. She was in his mind constantly. It was terrifying him; he couldn't eat or sleep or dream of anything but her, that sweet scent, those delicate features in comparison to those large, deep-ocean blue eyes. Just thinking about her could put him in a trance of a state similar to a small schoolboy, or a young girl with a crush, and the thought of it made him go mad. His sentences trailed of, and even his mother could tell something was wrong. He replayed the conversation in his head as he drifted to sleep...

"Oliver, dear, what's on your mind? You seem to be... distracted."

"What are you talking about, mum?"

"Ever since you've been telling me about Hogwarts, you've got this funny look on your face and you can't finish a sentence. I know my son, and this is what happens when he's got something serious on his mind."

"Oh, mum. It's... nothing really. And it's not anything that... I don't know. Actually, you might be able to help me see through this. There's this girl - a student! - she's of age, of course, but when I met her... I don't know. She's different, mum, and I don't mean that in the way that she's just different from other girls, she's different from everyone! She's magnificent! She misses the point of things sometimes, sarcasm isn't her strongest suit, but she's charming, and mysterious, and she's got these eyes, that just... I freeze up. I can't do anything."

"And you have feelings for her?" His mother was eyeing him curiously, but Oliver could tell that this wasn't a bad thing - she genuinely cared about her son, and wanted him to be happy and figure this whole mess out.

"I kissed her. And she kissed me back, and it was better than magic, I can't quite explain it! She's been coming to my office. Sometimes we study, mostly we just talk, and muse about things, and sometimes we kiss again... she's the one who convinced me to talk to McGonagall and fly out here to see you. She's compassionate, and... I'm running away with myself."

"Oh, Oliver. You've got it bad."

"And I can't do anything about it. I tried to stop seeing her... I lasted for about twelve hours. It's hopeless."

"And what's stopping you?"

The question took a few meanings, so Oliver took a few minutes to sort out his answer. "She's a student. I'm a teacher. We're six years apart, which isn't a terrible difference but it's significant. We're still in school. And I think other people might not agree with it."

"Alright. Well. The school year ends in just five months. You could always wait, if things continue this way. Six years is not a big thing, though it might seem so because she's young. You're 23. She's 17. In the muggle world, she's still not of age. It would be not as bad if she were older, but she's not and you can't change that. It's difficult. And like I said you can wait, and if people don't agree with that, it's too bad."

"But this is kind of a big thing for people to find out about, mum."

"Your father and I were as opposite as two could be. I was a fourth year Slytherin, and he was a seventh year Gryffindor. Can you imagine the amount of people that didn't agree with that?"

"You were a Slytherin?! Mum, I never knew that!"

"You never asked. But hush boy, the point is that sometimes, you have to put up with a lot of bad things to get to the good. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Absolutely."

He dreamt about Luna, and that scent, and her hair. He imagined she was walking towards him out of a cloud, a big misty cloud. She was smiling, and it took his breath away. She was just feet from him, and...

_Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to welcome you to London, England. It's quite a storm outside, snowing like mad, and it's below freezing. Keep those coats on and find a warm place as soon as we land, you wouldn't want to catch cold!_

London. Right. Just a few hours until he was back...

When his taxi dropped him off in the wilderness just a half hour outside of Hogwarts, he waited a moment or two for the confused driver to leave before he enlarged his broom back to normal size. The snowing had slowed, and he could make the half hour drive in ten minutes on his old broomstick. Goggles on, rucksack strapped to the back, he made the frigid journey back to the gates. When he was greeted with a peculiar glance from McGonagall instead of the usual grunt from Filch, he knew something was the matter.

"McGonagall. Afternoon. Just going to head back up to my office, then..."

"Not so fast, Wood. We have something we need to talk about."

Up in the Headmistress' office, Wood sat across from McGonagall as he had sat across from Dumbledore a few times back in his school years. He felt just as nervous, though McGonagall was infinitely less intimidating.

"Oliver, do you know why you are here?"

"At Hogwarts, McGonagall, or here tonight?"

"Both."

"I'm at Hogwarts because I was offered a teaching position by yourself after my Puddlemere contract ended, and as for tonight... no, I'm not sure."

"I understand you've been seeing Luna Lovegood."

He froze. Seeing Luna? Did they know? She wouldn't have told, but who?

"She's been coming to my office for extra lessons, yes."

"Such a talented student, though. Quite gifted."

"In her spellwork, yes, but her papers are admittedly quite bad."

McGonagall smirked. "That's precisely what she just told me. I've just had a conversation or two with a portrait about how she's been at your office quite late some nights... you must understand, the pressure this puts on me. A teacher and a student should not be seeing each other this late, even for extra lessons."

"I understand, of course. She came to me for help, and I couldn't turn her away. I'm just helping her build acceptable papers, for my class and others."

"I see. Well, Wood, just be careful with these extra lessons and things. We wouldn't want other people to get crazy ideas in their heads..." She gave him a little smirk, and Oliver had the instant, dreadful sense that she knew everything. He just had to keep his cool.

"Well, you know I'd stop them if I could. But she's really showing progress, and I'd hate to stop now." The smirk fell. Oliver danced a little inside.

"Fine. I'll see you downstairs for dinner in a few minutes."

Oliver ran downstairs to his office, throwing his bags into his quarters and walking as quickly as he could to the Great Hall. He knew who he wanted to see - and for just a few fleeting moments, he didn't care if anyone else could see right through it.

* * *

**AN: Yay, update. I might write another one tonight. I wrote the first half of this a week ago, actually, and just finished it tonight. It's a lengthy update, hope it keeps you satisfied until I can update again. Please review, it lets me know who's still reading! Cheers! **


	13. Early February

**AN: Dearest, Dearest TEY Readers: I'm announcing here, in case you don't follow my other stories, that I'm making my official return to FFnet! Really excited about it. I've been looking for the notes I had on this story, but unfortunately... they were totally lost in the move. Luckily I read through them enough back when I wrote them that I've basically memorised them. SO. Enjoy this!**

Draco couldn't get over the feeling he'd had after she'd touched his face. It had been nearly two weeks, and yet whenever her petite frame came into vision, he could feel his cheek tingling ever-so-slightly. They'd become much more comfortable with each other in the time since then, studying together nightly and even going for walks through the snow. On a particularly frosty afternoon at the beginning of February, He stepped out of her dormitory to find a sight he'd seen countless times - Hermione pacing around their common sitting room, mumbling incoherently to herself.

"Hermione? At it again, I see."

She started, obviously surprised by his voice. "'Right. You've noticed?"

"It's hard not to. You're pacing around the room whenever you're not studying or taking meetings with me... remember we have one tomorrow, as well."

"Wouldn't forget. And I suppose I can see that you might see that. What are you doing this afternoon?" He could see that she was startled that _he _reminded _her._

"I was considering heading around the castle for a walk by the lake. It's a bit chilly, but..." He glanced at her hopefully.

"Well... I was thinking about heading down to the Library to do a bit of reading. I haven't been down just for fun in what seems like ages."

"Sounds nice, actually. Perhaps I can go with you and I'll walk some other time." This startled her further.

"Nonsense. I haven't visited the library in ages. I'll just be reading the whole time - you'll be bored."

"I will not. I know you still don't believe I'm literate, but I'll crack something open as well. Perhaps we can take a walk before dinner?"

"Oh but Draco it'll be terribly cold then."

"No. We'll make it work. Come on." He held out his arm, and she stared for a moment before taking it. At this point, he couldn't think of anything else he could have wanted.

* * *

Harry, meanwhile, worried. It was nearly halfway through February - and there was only one day he could think of. Valentines Day. It had been haunting him since the turn of February. He and Pansy were not officially together. They still did not hold hands or touch at all in the halls where other people could see - that they saved for their time every night in a deserted corridor. They had not gone beyond that, either. Harry was terrified to think of trying to make a move on Pansy - the idea itself was strange, and she was so intimidating and intense that he couldn't help but feel quiet and boring sometimes around her. There was just over a week left to think of something that would impress her. If he was going to do anything at all. An expensive gift wouldn't do - she'd been used to a privileged life with her Slytherin friends, and that would be a cheap idea anyway. He couldn't write her anything - he was crap at essays, he couldn't imagine trying to convey his feelings on paper. He slept each night thinking that in the morning, he might finally discover the idea that would help him win her heart - or, more than he already had.

* * *

Oliver, however, knew that he was definitely doing a little something for Luna. The idea at first struck him as absurd - but once he'd thought about the smile she'd get when he surprised her, he couldn't help it.

He'd suggest another duel - they'd had many over the months, and he knew that it wouldn't take much to convince her. He'd set it up for the night of Valentine's Day, and hope she wouldn't pick up on the hint. Midway through the deal - or when she wasn't paying attention, both were likely - he'd charm a bunch of roses from his wand. It was childish, he knew - he'd seen first years attempting it every year he'd been at Hogwarts - but it was sweet, and yet a little romantic... the thought froze him. Romantic. A teacher and a student. Something was bound to go wrong. But as the dread hit him, he heard a knock at the door, and when he opened it he saw her shining face, her captivating eyes, and her warm smile. Boundaries were out the window. To hell with rules and expectations. He thought of his mother in that moment, and what she'd said to him that day:

_"You have to put up with a lot of bad things to get to the good." _

And Luna was his good thing - she was better than good, she was brilliant. And she was absolutely worth it.

"Lovegood."

She smirked at him. "Wood. We rhyme, if you haven't noticed. Can I come in?"

"Of course. But I'm under strict orders of the Headmistress to make sure you're back in your dormitory by curfew. Don't make me punish you."

"What are you going to do, take away house points? We're Ravenclaw. We'll earn them back in lessons in no time." She slipped past him through the doorway, her scent reaching his nose, and her body brushing past his for just a moment. He couldn't help but notice that she was going to constantly leave him breathless.

"You probably could earn them all back yourself in a week. I shouldn't bother. But McGonagall really did confront me about our... extra lessons. Meeting all the time."

"What were her concerns?"

"That we meet late at night, alone, in my office..."

"I see. Well, she should know by now that I'm not the type of girl that would be caught sneaking around with a Professor..." She shot him a wink and he laughed.

"Of course not. Luna Lovegood? But she's our star pupil! She is, though, rubbish at writing essays..." She swatted him and he settled into the couch next to her.

"But we really should watch things, Luna. I mean... if you even want to continue... whatever this is."

"Oliver Wood, I will have you know that I don't just come here for essays anymore. I'd think you would know that by now. If she's afraid that we're in a romantic sort of setting, then I'll be glad to move our lessons to the Quidditch pitch, in the middle of the day, possible on a match day..."

"That's actually a terrible idea. What would the rest of the school think if they saw us snogging in the middle of the match? Maybe if Slytherin was playing..."

She laughed a hearty laugh and he joined her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in closer. If there was one thing he'd learned about Luna in the months they'd been spending together, it was that the girl could laugh at anything. And he loved that more than - almost - anything about her. She was fiery and not afraid to make jokes or suggestions that were a little out of the box - exactly like herself. He couldn't help it - he was absolutely smitten.

* * *

Hermione sat on her bed, thinking over the events of the previous weeks. In fourteen days, she'd seen Ron and Harry exactly twice each, both of them cordial but distracted, and Draco exactly... well, probably even more than fourtfeen times. It was practically insane. It wasn't even the fact that their bedrooms shared a wall, either - it was also that they constantly spent time together studying or walking or discussing Head Boy and Girl matters, or chatting about home and how different things were before the war. While Hermione mused, she realized how opposite the two of them were, even in their deepest foundations.

She was studious, sure-worded, and practical. She could read a book through in a day and knowledge was her best weapon. The only thing that had changed for her had been appearance - she'd learned to tame her hair and not look so often as if she had just risen from bed. She was eighteen years old now and she was just now beginning to learn to do the things girls had remarked on her _not_ doing for years. Brilliant move, of course. She chuckled. And Draco... He was the rich boy - Slytherin born and bred, platinum hair atop his head. He was, at least two years ago, snide and cruel and unforgiving. He also used to mercilessly make fun of her hair and bloodline. He was, in essentials, the school bully - tough, witty, and intimidating. And yet while things had changed, they had remained the same. He was still efficient and tactical - though his skills were now put to better use. He was still full of outbursts and powerful words - though nowadays it was to compliment or invite her, and to blush furiously whenever they were near.

That was another thing - he'd been so nice to her, but, beyond nice. He didn't just care about her. That was knowledge she'd picked up on weeks ago, and she knew she could use that to her advantage somehow. He was sweet, and thoughtful, and he always helped her with her potions work when she needed it. He'd made a complete transformation since she'd last seen him - disastrous as that was - and while memories of the past still clung to her mind, new memories - like walking arm in arm through the halls to the Library, and him pulling out his list of concerns at the first meeting they'd had with the staff, and the morning he'd knocked on her door, bright and early, to make sure she hadn't overslept, as he knew she could get cranky when she did...

She took a deep breath in and let it out. That's just what she had to do with her picture of the old Draco Malfoy - let it out. That wasn't who he was anymore, he was a completely different person. And it was that person that she enjoyed spending time with more than with anyone else she'd known, lately. She stood from her bed and marched right out the door, prepared to take her daily walk with Head Boy, full of smiles, playful, caring Draco - the only one that mattered now.

He stood in the doorway to the common room, two mugs in his hands. His face reminded her slightly of Harry or Ron - absolutely blank. She laughed.

"Going somewhere?"

"Coming in, actually. This is for you. I stopped by to get some on the way up from the dungeons. Thought it might be a nice surprise."

"It's a wonderful surprise, actually. Are you ready?"

"Nearly." He stepped closer to her, and she felt her eyes widen. In an instant, his arms were around her waist, his cheek on the top of her head. It was a strange and startling sensation, but it wasn't entirely unwanted. Instead of pushing away, which was her automatic response, she found herself wrapping her own arms around him, stepping in even closer. He was hugging her. And she laughed. She quite liked it. And whhen he stepped back and smiled, she saw his face... and she knew.

* * *

Ron was miserable. He couldn't help but look at the fact that school was more than half over, and know that his entire year had been rubbish. He'd lost contact with his friends, his sister was a mess, his girlfriend dumped him, and he'd had a fling with a teacher - a teacher who he trusted and cared about. He couldn't think of anything else that could go wrong. And it was for this reason that he needed to talk to the person he wanted to talk to least - Professor Rowe. And he was going to her, first.

"Professor?"

She jumped. "Ron. Hello. Can I help you?"

"I just... wanted to talk. And you were here."

"Well Weasley, I can't really talk for long. I have a staff meeting to get to, we're meeting with the Head Boy and Girl, important matters..."

"Of course. But I just... it's for one of those reasons. The Head Girl. And last month. And how my life is falling apart."

Her face softened. "Oh, Ron. I know how you feel. And that's precisely why we can't meet like this anymore. It's... you're my student. We shouldn't."

"Look, I know you care about me - and I care a great deal about you. So can we please, just... can we talk?"

She nodded her head. He spilled every detail - how this Eighth Year, this big second chance, was turning out to be even worse than the previous. He told her the entire story of himself and Hermione, and how close the two of them had been with Harry, and even more he'd found out about his sister...

When it was finally over, even her eyes were misty.

"You must hurt... so badly."

"I do." He took her hand over the desk. "Terribly. And that's why I need you. What happened a few weeks ago... after that, I was so confused. But I know what I need - and I need something to take my mind off things. Anything that can do that. And that... it did that. I don't know how or why but for a few moments, I didn't think at all, and it was fantastic."

She was silent now, unaware of how to respond to his outburst. He'd gotten louder as he finished his statement, which lead her to believe he was as nervous as she was. He stepped closer, trying to get her to say something, anything. She wouldn't. He walked to her side, setting a hand to her shoulder. She looked up at him, a strange look in her eyes. She stood then, just a foot from him. He knew in that instant that she'd misunderstood what he'd said. She'd taken this entire meeting to think that he was throwing himself at her, and that wasn't the case. But he remembered how he felt - or didn't feel - when they kissed, and the temptation was too great. He lunged at her, covering her mouth with his. Tonight would be different. Tonight, he would lose feeling completely, by feeling something else.

Professor Rowe never made it to the staff meeting that night, and Ron Weasley missed curfew. To the onlooker, they were perhaps studying, or completely seperate to begin with. But what happened between them that night was enough to make Ron forget how empty he felt all the time, and that was enough for now.

* * *

**AN: Okay, whew. Somewhat long update. I'm happy I finally got back to this, I'll return shortly. Please review, I'd love to hear from all of you! **


	14. Valentine's Day

**AN: Tee hee. Okay, a few of you guessed about it, but not a terribly large number of you actually knew... this chapter isn't just going to be Late February, it's a very special, highly dramatic... FANFARE PLEASE ! VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL. Okay, it's not that special. But with all the different opinions and things that could happen around Valentines Day, I had to do it. Note that not all is going to come out and be perfect and romantic by the end of this chapter. I don't want to give anything away. I do just want to say one thing though, because it seems to be getting many different reactions out of different readers - its not Ron bashing. I generally love Ron as a character, he's funny if a little stupid, and usually a happy sort of guy. Rowe is, yes, somewhat the 'bad guy' in this fic, yet it will remain unclear even after the end of this chapter, possibly even many chapters after that, who exactly is using who. That's still a mystery. Really long chapter, REALLY REALLY long. A small bit of lemon at the end, though not between who you might expect... oh gods. Enjoy!**

Pansy couldn't understand. What had he meant these past few nights? Sometimes, like the first time, he'd set his hand next to hers or intertwine his fingers with her own, and she'd melt. She'd never, in a million years, expect that she of all people would be in this much of a mess over the hands of Harry Potter. But she had to admit, after all this time, that it was mainly house rivalry and bias that had kept her loathing him for six long years. It was the night of February thirteenth. It was her birthday. She'd been enjoying greetings from friends and practical strangers all day, though the sticky sweetness with which some of her old enemies wished her a happy birthday was enough to make her wish nobody knew at all. Just during Potions that afternoon, Blaise had started another round of singing, and she'd been absolutely mortified. She turned, at the end of the song, to see Harry tilting his head towards her, grinning and singing along. He winked at her. Oh, gods.

She couldn't go out there, not when nearly everyone in school had been parading around about her birthday all day. She was finally of age, yes. The youngest in her year due to late developing magic. And now everyone knew.

Creeping out of her dormitory to the hallway beyond, Pansy smiled. As soon as she turned the corner, he was sitting in his usual spot, head bent over his bent knees, hands folded behind his head.

"Shielding yourself from something?"

He looked up, startled. "I really shouldn't be so surprised when you... surprise me like that."

She laughed, sliding lightly down the wall to settle in next to him. She sat closer than usual, and she hoped he'd notice. "Always a man of many words... I'm constantly 'surprised' by your brilliance."

He took her hand, she smiled. "So, if I'm not mistaken by a few thousand choruses today, it's your birthday."

She rolled her eyes, laughing again slightly. "Yes. Lucky seventeen."

"But you're young, you should be turning 18, or even 19."

"You want to be let in on a little secret? When I was young, I didn't have any of that usual clumsy magic kids have. My parents were worried I'd be a squib. I couldn't make dust move. It was scary - I thought I'd never be able to use magic. But when I turned ten, it all came to me at once. That was scarier, because I couldn't control any of it." She stopped, feeling like she'd given away too much, but he nodded her on. "I'd blow up everything in the kitchen, or my own bedroom, and while my mother could fix it in an instant, it still worried the both of us. She wrote to the ministry, and to Hogwarts...and I started a year early. The first time they've allowed it in over four centuries."

"Wow. That's got to be... scary. When I was younger, I could do little things I suppose, but I didn't have any other kids to talk to... I thought everyone could do it. Then Hagrid busts down a few doors and tells me I'm a wizard. It was a bit of a shock."

Pansy laughed loudly now, and they heard a gravelly meow from the end of the hallway.

"It's Mrs. Norris. We have to get out of here. Now." Harry pulled Pansy up by the hand and they flew down the corridor, down the stairs toward the dungeons. Harry looked at Pansy, taking both of her hands in his and looking more than a little shaken. "The damn cat probably saw us, we're lucky Filch didn't come 'round the corner next."

"Eh, we're safe now. But you should probably get back... it's past curfew."

"Right. Well... happy birthday, anyway."

The moment seemed to drag on forever - neither found themselves able to turn first and leave, to the dim dungeons or to the warm common room of Gryffindor. Pansy rocked a little on her feet, Harry stared at the ceiling. After more than a few odd minutes, a noise sounded from not far away, and be it Ghost or Caretaker, Pansy knew that if he didn't leave soon, he'd get caught. He seemed to know the same, and in an instant, he'd stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, his body pressed against her own. She couldn't say she didn't like it, and took the opportunity to snake her own arms up and around his neck. After just a few fleeting seconds he pulled away, leaning back in for just a moment to press his lips to her cheek.

"Hope it was a great one."

She was absolutely dumbfounded. As of that second, it had been the best one she'd had yet. She couldn't say that of course, she simply nodded and smiled, barely allowing him to retract his arms and run off down the hallway, looking back at her twice before turning the corner.

* * *

Hermione's constant scowl throughout the morning was enough to make anyone in the mood for Valentine's Day just a bit less cheerful. She'd been reminded, this morning, by her first professor of the day. And she wasn't terribly happy about it. Valentines Day, at least for herself, had been a sordid affair in a few years previous. In the original Hogwarts years, she and Ron had awkwardly avoided the subject entirely. In their sixth year, he'd had himself draped around Lavender Brown for most of the year. And in their seventh year, he'd just abandoned herself and Harry in the forest, leaving Hermione heartbroken. Now, this was her Eighth Year - and she and Ron were broken up. The only male she talked to on a regular basis was Draco. And there were images of cherubs charmed to float along the walls of the castle. She was miserable. She couldn't, however, help but notice that Draco had been especially kind to her that morning. Perhaps he could just tell she was in a bad mood. And they had agreed to exchange gifts that night, though she had no idea what to give him... she hadn't purchased a single thing in Hogsmeade the last weekend, and she was stuck. Brilliant.

* * *

Oliver had been practicing the spell for days, and could now produce a perfect bunch of roses every time. It was dorky, he knew that, but it was only flowers that he could give to Luna without it being too much. His classes that day were agonizing - students were talking about valentines day through most of his lessons, and after the first and second years, he stopped even trying to teach, settling instead to let students talk or study while he retreated to his office and practiced even longer. Each time, a perfect twelve of perfect, blooming red roses. And it had bloody well be perfect, he'd been practicing for a week. He was surprised only by a knock at his office door, at which he put down his wand and opened the door to find the headmistress.

"McGonagall. What can I do for you?"

"I see your students aren't getting much work done. I was going to come retrieve young mister Brown from your class, but he was, at the time, discussing what he might get from his girlfriend for Valentines Day. A topic surely not appropriate for a lesson time, don't you think Wood?"

He blushed. Why did she always have to catch him at something he wasn't supposed to be doing? "Yes, ma'am. I'll resume lessons. They're just so restless today. I'd have an easier time getting them all to fly."

"On broomsticks, perhaps, and it is a technique you may well want to use with today's seventh years. I've seen them - you're not the only one." With a wink, she breezed out of his office, taking the student with her. Oliver returned to the classroom and continued attempting to teach. He could only remember that today's seventh year class was Ravenclaw - and that a certain one of them had never learned to fly.

* * *

Ron was miserable, to say the least. He'd gone to Madam Pomfrey after breakfast and she'd said he looked so bad, he'd be given the day off classes and should return to his bed at once. He obliged. He wasn't feeling much up to sitting in classes today, least of all Transfiguration. He'd stepped foot in the classroom only twice since that night, and each time had been worse than torture. She'd given him knowing little looks, or placed a hand on his shoulder, or pointed out his brilliance at a certain transformation - he couldn't take it anymore. Being teacher's pet was a right nightmare, and he wasn't even one for a good reason.

He was, in fact, a teacher's pet for an entirely wrong reason. They'd slept together. He'd been a... well, he knew what he was. And now he wasn't. And she certainly hadn't been before... she'd been married. She was a divorcee professor, and he was a broken hearted youth. He went through the months previous over and over again, trying to find out where it was that he crossed the line, that he took one too many steps out of that line. He decided that he couldn't decide, and instead chose to sleep. He'd been granted a few hours to remain unconscious, and he was damned if he wasn't going to take full advantage of them. While he dreamt, he had flashbacks from that night and nights previous - of the feeling of not feeling at all when he grabbed her round the waist, of the complete emptiness he'd allowed in when he kissed her hard on the mouth. The feelings, or lack thereof, were magnificent. But the external - the actions - weren't all that great after all.

* * *

Blaise had reached a decision. He didn't care what she did, or who she'd seen, but he'd seen a change of confidence in Ginny Weasley that he quite liked, and he would go after her if it was the last thing he did. Pansy, of course, was the only soul in the castle who had any idea of his feelings for the girl, and yet when she stepped out of her dormitory that morning and walked towards him, he saw the smile on his best friends face and decided to keep quiet for a while. Pansy obviously was hiding something, and he'd find out now.

"Someone looks... rather happy."

"And what if I am?"

"Then good for you. I'm smiling for you, deep inside somewhere."

"But I am, I am happy. It's... him."

"Ah, your mystery man you've told me _absolutely nothing about. _Fantastic. Am I never going to find out who it is?"

"It's possible."

"Fine. Go run off and have babies with the bloke. I still won't know who it is though, eh?"

"Oh please, he hasn't even kissed me yet. Well..."

Blaise eyed his friend curiously. She smiled.

"Well, he kissed me on the cheek last night when he walked me back to the dormitory, and told me happy birthday and all that. It was really sweet."

"I imagine. Did you get my birthday present, by the way?"

"I did, it's wonderful. Very warm. And comfortable. Thanks. I'll have to get you something even better."

He rolled his eyes. He'd bought her a sweater on the last Hogsmeade trip, a rather soft one - a rather expensive one - because she'd been complaining about her old worn out one for months.

"Fine. Just fine."

"How are things going on your front, by the way? Have you still not spoken a word to her? It usually gets things moving, you know."

"Apparently. Come on. We've got potions soon."

Pansy gasped, and Blaise's gaze flew towards her.

"He's in our potions class then, isn't he? That's what that was about!"

"No he - I... I remembered something."

"That he's in potions with us?"

"You're revolting. Why am I still friends with you?"

He smirked, patting her on the shoulder. "He is. Oh good. I'm going to figure it out in no time."

Pansy, however, stared at her textbook the whole time, while Blaise thought of something - anything - he might say to Ginny Weasley.

* * *

Neville was scared. Not fighting-death-eaters scared, not battle-at-the-ministry scared, not Voldemort's-return scared. He was blushing and tripping over himself and being a bloody idiot because of Heather. She was brilliant - as knowledged in Herbology as himself, and quite witty to boot. She'd made him laugh, and smile, and she'd cheered him up even when he'd gotten a nasty burn in Potions one week. She was perfect - and yet he was unhappy. He had been, in easy terms, more than friendly with a few girls that year so far. And he'd enjoyed it, to say the least. But nothing ever happened with Heather, more than a hand holding or a hug. And he wondered why that was. He was, she had said herself, good looking. She was attracted to him. So why not make a move? They'd been getting to know each other for nearly six months now. They'd been meeting at least every few days in that time.

He remembered a late afternoon with a Hufflepuff, or was it Ravenclaw? Girl of about fifteen. She had jumped on him while he was strolling the grounds, talking to him for nearly ten minutes before admitting she found him attractive and kissing him square on the mouth. She thought he was good looking, and Heather had as well. What was the difference? Why hadn't Heather pushed him against a tree yet? He thought he'd never understand girls. But in that morning, he made himself a plan. He was going to make his own move, on Heather. Not physical maybe, but romantic. To, at least, let her know he was definitely interested. How? Well, that was the difficult part...

* * *

Ginny Weasley was at it again. Of course, it wasn't as if she'd ever stopped. No, she'd continued on, same as before, enjoying her seventh year and the men included in it. It was simple, really. A night alone in a dark corridor, a fleeting glance in the hallways. It worked like a charm - better than a charm, really. On a particularly normal morning in mid-February - Valentines Day, to be exact - she sat alone at the Gryffindor table eating her breakfast and was startled by a tap on her shoulder. Upon turning around, she saw that the perpetrator was, to her surprise, Blaise Zabini. The tall, dark figure loomed over hers and she smiled. Why hadn't she thought of him before? He was definitely good looking.

"Good morning, Blaise. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing in particular. Just saying hello. We haven't been properly introduced."

"No, but of course I know who you are. Pleasure's all mine, I'm sure."

"Don't be so certain." He smiled, waving once and then turning and walking the other way.

He may be good looking, she thought. But he was also awfully strange.

* * *

Harry was nervous. It was only just after Dinner, and while most students had returned to their dormitories to sleep, he knew of at least himself and one other that hadn't. And it was her that he was waiting for - the girl he'd been meeting, nightly, since January. The girl he'd met dozens of times before that. She'd absolutely captured his heart, and he couldn't think of anyone else... it was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, even with Ginny. He'd meant to kiss her the night before, really kiss her. But he'd chickened out at the last moment, and instead planted his lips on her cheek. How stupid of him, to put himself aside by only a few inches. It was her birthday. And yet, today was Valentine's Day. It was the perfect excuse to make up for yesterday's mistake, he could...

"Hello, Harry. Nice day?"

"Alright. Potions was miserable today though, right? I couldn't bear it. Two hours. And I just wanted to sleep."

"Understood. I also could have done without two hours of a detailed ingredient analysis on next weeks potions. I felt like upturning my cauldron for a laugh."

"I would have laughed."

"Everyone would have - and I should have done it, only Blaise stopped me, and told me it would be rude. Always a man of manners, Zabini."

"He's decent. How's he been, lately?"

"Distracted. He fancies someone, and I'm the only one who knows."

"Well who is it? Come on. Tell me."

He was grinning, but at once Pansy got a look that meant she wasn't too happy about it. Or so he'd thought that's what it meant.

"Well... it's your ex-girlfriend, Ginny Weasley."

"But he knows what she's... how she's... what she's up to, doesn't he?"

"He does. But... he's not after that."

"Good luck getting her to stop it all. Both Ron and I, plus their mother, we all talked to her, she refused to listen to any of us. She said we should mind our own business and let her live her life."

"Sounds like any young girl. I just don't know what he thinks he's going to do about any of it."

"Good luck to him. I didn't either. Does he know about... us?" He used the term, but he didn't know how else to say it. There was obviously something, and yet saying it as he had made it sound scandalous, worse than it was. Pansy took no notice.

"He has no idea. He knows I'm seeing someone in our year, in our Potions class, not a Slytherin. Obviously, it's one of about ten people, there are only that many that fit. But he can't guess. I think that, in the past, he would have been so opposed to the idea of it being you that he can't think of it now."

"Brilliant. Are you ever going to tell him?"

"It's possible. Are you ever going to tell anyone?"

That caught him off guard. No, he hadn't told anyone, and he hadn't planned on it. But why not? Why couldn't he tell Ron, or mention it to Hermione when he saw her? They'd spoken once or twice at least in the past week, and he was glad for it. He could trust either of them with anything, and perhaps he should trust them with this.

"Yeah. You know, I was just thinking... I should. Tell Ron and Hermione. And I will."

"And Blaise will find out sooner or later... Hermione's bound to tell Draco, that should be interesting..."

"And then what after that?" He'd caught her off guard, with this one.

"Well, then anyone who matters knows. And then what of the people who don't matter? It's not as if we have to hide it from them. So... everyone knows."

The hall was silent for over a minute. The prospect of informing the entire school of their relationship was scary, and yet exciting.

"Yeah," he took a moment to word things, "everyone knows. Not a big deal. There have been bigger scandals."

"Like Ginny."

"And whoever else. God, this makes me think... what could everyone else our age be up to? There could be other... couples, up around the grounds right now, talking exactly as we are now."

"It's weird, isn't it Harry?"

"Really weird, Pansy. Alright, it's late. We really should head up to bed. Come on, I'll walk you."

They stood and she took his hand, as usual. The walk to the dungeons was careful, quiet, and charged with energy. He was going to do it. Tonight. After the conversation, after the agreement that they'd come out with everything... tell everyone... he was going to kiss her. The stairwell loomed before him, darker and scarier than usual. This was no longer just a dungeon, but it was the place he'd have to face his fears. He'd defeated Voldemort, taken on Death Eaters and battled anything fightening within a hundred miles, and yet he couldn't bring himself to kiss this girl he'd grown so close to...

They stopped, just a foot from the top step. He grabbed her other hand, stepping just a bit closer and slipping his arms around her waist.

"Pansy... if we're going to, y'know, come out to the rest of the school... I'm thinking you should probably be my girlfriend."

She smiled, looking down to hide her face, but he pulled her chin up, looking into her eyes.

"Well, Harry. I guess that makes the most sense. Starting today. Valentine's Day. Oh god. Well... goodnight then."

And before Harry himself could muster the courage, Pansy stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his, and it was magnificent. The fire that spread through his entire self was blazing, he'd never felt so alive or so at peace with the world around him, but with Pansy's arms wrapped around his neck and his pulling her closer still, the night came to a close, and Harry smiled, a real smile, for the first time in what felt like eternity.

* * *

Blaise was in absolute shock. He'd hidden just a ways down the corridor from the entrance to the Dungeons, waiting to see when Pansy returned, and hopefully catch a glimpse of whoever it was she'd been with. Instead of a small hint, he'd absolutely caught her in the middle of snogging Harry Potter. He was astounded. They were, apparently, together now. It was just a matter of time until they let everyone else know. And yet, he couldn't be frustrated with her. Harry was no longer the enemy, and when he'd seen the smile on Pansy's face when they finally separated, when she finally flew downstairs into the dungeon, he couldn't help but be happy for her. She was his best friend, and she was happy. That was - almost - all that mattered. Now, however, he could also poke a little fun at her.

He followed her a minute later, once Potter was out of sight. Creeping down into the dungeons, he saw that Pansy was sitting on one of the couches, undoubtedly waiting for him to come talk to her. He'd done it before, but this time, he wasn't coming from his dormitory.

"Late night out, Parkinson?"

Her head whipped around to see him standing in the doorway, then sauntering over towards her.

"Yes, Blaise. Just got in."

"I'm aware. I saw you." He saw the panic in her face and he laughed. "Not to worry. Your secret's safe with me."

"You know who it is then?"

"Yes, and of course I was a bit shocked to see you tangling tongues with the Potter boy, but I can't say I'm not happy about it. You did look rather smitten, the both of you."

"We've been seeing each other for months, but... it's been really slow. That's the first time he kissed me."

"Is it really? Touching. I witnessed the first kiss of the only Slytherin-Gryffindor coupling I've seen in all our years here. And it was my best friend and the Boy Who Lived. Fantastic."

"Oh shut your mouth. If you haven't forgotten, you're gaga for Gryffindor as well. Ginny looked rather pretty today, don't you think?"

She was mocking him now.

"And Potter looked dashing as well, Parkinson, but I don't go telling you that. Hah. We're stuck then - I after Ginny, and you with Potter."

"Except Harry and I are coming out with it tomorrow. We're going to... go public, I suppose."

"Really? Oh, I can't miss this. Pansy Parkinson, what_ are_ we going to do?"

"No clues, Blaise. But I do know we are two absolute emerald traitors, and we'll probably rot for it in the end."

"Possibly. But God save us, we love our Gryffindors." He conjured two glasses of Pumpkin juice and they drank until they were full, before finally getting to bed.

* * *

Neville sat at the top of the stairs, waiting until the right time when Heather would come find him. He'd mentioned it to her in passing, hoping that she'd actually show up. He'd been excited to see her - he'd snogged quite a few girls in the past few months, but it was she that he was waiting for, it was Heather that he wanted most. If he had her, he had no need for another other silly girls. Heather was smart, and funny, and made him laugh on weird days. He was, to be honest, really beginning to have strong feelings for her, and he wasn't going to tell her, he was going to show her.

When she finally rounded the corner, eyeing him sitting against a wall, she smiled and waved.

"Neville. I was hoping you'd still be here, you mentioned it earlier. I got stuck avoiding Peeves on the first floor, he made such a mess..." She sat beside him and pulled out a book. It was one they'd perused on previous meetings, full of odd Herbology information that they both found fascinating. On any other night, he would have gladly made his way closer, flipping pages beside her and learning new things all night. But tonight was not the night, and he wanted her to know that. He reached over, shutting the book over and slipping an arm around her waist.

"You know, Heather... I was thinking, you're rather attractive, and I think we have something going here... what do you think?"

She stuttered out something that sounded like agreement. He grinned, scooting closer so he could rest a hand on her knee.

"I rather like you, Heather. Do you like me?"

She nodded, but would not look up at him. Not bothered by this trivial bit of information, he went on.

"I'd really love to snog you one day, and it is Valentine's Day... I thought it the perfect opportunity to meet you."

He brought his face closer to hers, so that his nose brushed against her cheek. She let out a shaky breath, which he took to mean nervousness, and pressed on.

"Well, Heather... I hope this gift is good enough for you." And with that, he pressed his lips against hers and applied pressure, moving her mouth with his and running a hand through her smooth hair, breathing in her scent, tasting her tongue... he was prepared for her to put a hand to his chest, but he was not prepared to be shoved roughly away.

"Neville... oh god. Neville Longbottom. Is that what you think I want?"

She was straightening her sweater and gathering her things. This wasn't a good sign.

"Isn't it? I like you, you like me, a good snog wouldn't hurt..."

"I'm not that kind of girl, Neville. I know, oh, I know, that you're used to that kind of flimsy, loose lipped girl, but that's not what you get with me. I genuinely thought you enjoyed just spending time with me and getting to know each other these past few months, I wasn't aware that you were just after a game of tonsil hockey. I must bid you adieu, or I'll miss curfew." She let out a huffy breath and left before he could get a single word out. He thought to call her a prude, but replayed the night in his head. He'd been thinking so much of snogging her, really snogging her, that he hadn't stopped to think if maybe he should just kiss her cheek and see where it went from there. Great. He'd ruined it with the one girl he'd had real feelings for. Happy Valentines Day. Brilliant.

* * *

Draco was, to say the least, nervous. They agreed, just a week ago, to exchange Valentine's Day gifts, as they walked around Hogsmeade. They wouldn't have anyone else to give gifts to, both of them being single and slightly bitter, so they'd agreed that they were each other's own perfect counterparts. It wasn't as if they were each other's valentines, or anything. Of course not that. It was, in Hermione's words, 'two people who care about each other exchanging gifts on a romantic holiday.' But then, where did the romance fit in?

He was sure he had feelings for her, at this point. When her name ran through his head, it did not mean the same things it used to. She had gone from enemy, to acquaintance, to friend, to romantic interest in just a matter of eight months, and it was absolutely frightening. He hadn't really had feelings for a girl since his fourth year, when he thought Pansy a suitable partner, and had instead used the following years to keep himself and his family alive. Now they were in their unexpected eighth year, and it wasn't just the school that was unexpected - it was his own feelings, as well. Now, he sat on the couch by the fire, waiting for her to come out of her bedroom for their nightly meeting. That, however, hadn't begun by agreement - it just happened. They'd started sitting with each other every night, to talk or study or just enjoy each other's company in silence. He usually put an arm around her, and she'd play with his fingers or his hair, or just wedge herself even further into his side. It had been cozy, and comfortable and at least - what he thought - a tad romantic on it's own.

The door behind him creaked open, and his hand absentmindedly ran through his hair and then over her present hidden in his coat pocket at his waist. She smiled, shutting the door behind herself and coming to sit by him on the couch. Slipping an arm around her, he smiled and spoke.

"'Mione. How was your day?"

"You were here for most of it. Dreadful. Peeves was dropping stink bombs and sludge all over a first floor corridor, a toilet exploded in the old girls lavatory because of Moaning Myrtle, and The Bloody Baron was causing a scene just after Breakfast. The ghosts and things today were dreadful. I nearly died."

"But then, dear, you'd be a ghost, and where's the fun in that?"

She let out a sigh. "Living at Hogwarts. This is really our last year, this time. There's really just over three months until we'll never see this place again."

"I've come to... enjoy being here, as well. It's much nicer than a constant stay at Malfoy Manor."

"Though with your father gone... I can't imagine it didn't get slightly better."

"It's gotten loads better, my mother even wrote to me last week to wish me well. I think she and my father are going to split, and I've never been happier."

"Separated on Valetnine's Day. Really gives a feeling for the Holiday, right?" She smiled.

"Right." His mirrored her by default. "Now, Hermione. We agreed to exchange gifts..."

At once, Hermione turned extremely red in the face, and he wondered if he'd said something wrong. Shrugging the incident off, he reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a rather small pouch.

"I know how much you like reading - well, everyone knows that - and I thought to just get you books... but that would be obvious. Instead, I got you lots of books. About thirty. And they're all kept away in this clever little pouch I found in a shop... now you can read, wherever you are and whoever you're with." He realized without meaning it that the 'whoever you're with' comment meant more than he'd let on - he'd hoped that in time, she might be with him.

She took the pouch and smiled sweetly, gazing inside and tilting it around to see the titles on the volumes. "It's really... it's wonderful, Draco. Nobody else has thought to give me a number of books before, really. Is that a first edition? That one must have been hard to find... wow. Thank you." She tucked the pouch away in her own pocket, still smiling. But when she raised her head and looked at him again, she turned red immediately.

"Are you just going to keep turning red like a light?"

"It's possible."

In that moment, he didn't care whether or not she had a present for him - the face she'd made when he'd given one to her was all he needed. But, he had to ask. This could be interesting.

"And did Miss Hermione Granger think of anything to give me?"

Her face did not lighten, but her eyes to raise to look into his. He felt a smile creeping up onto his face, though he could not stop it to save his life, and to attempt to do so would only end with a rather ugly face.

"Well, I did, but..."

"But what? I'm sure that whatever you thought up is perfect. I'll love it. Especially if it comes from you."

This seemed to be all she needed, she turned her head, he thought, to retrieve some small package that had been hidden in her sweater or her pockets, but he was wrong.

Instead, Draco watched as Hermione turned back towards him, shook her head a little, and bent her head in close to his. Was she going to kiss him? He wasn't ready for this! He liked her, oh gods he liked her, but wasn't he supposed to make the first move? Wasn't he...

At once, she pressed her lips to his. His eyes flew open, then shut tight. He was going to enjoy this. Very much so. His hands cupped her face, pulling her across the gap between them and closer to himself. Her lips parted and he thought he'd never feel this way again, never this elated and light, and so happy... their mouths played against each other for a few moments, broken only by small laughs and smiles. When at last she pulled away, he reluctantly let her go. He wished it could have gone on for hours. This girl that he'd fallen for, that he'd gained such feelings for... she'd kissed him! And he hadn't even known that she'd had feelings for him!

Hermione hid her flushed face again, but Draco brought his hand to her cheek and pulled her back, facing him.

"Draco..."

"Hermione, that was the best present I've ever received." He planted one small kiss on her lips then drew back. "Thank you."

She seemed to blush even darker, then smiled again. "I couldn't think of anything to give you. So I believe, with that... I'm giving you myself."

He pulled her in to rest against his chest, and felt her let out a deep breath. She was magnificent, this girl, he never would have had the courage to pull it off like that. He ran a hand over her soft hair, over her side, resting finally on her hip.

"Like I said before. Best present ever. And then, I believe, in return I shall give you myself. It's the only appropriate time for a second gift." He kissed the top of her head, and then felt cool fingers interlace with his own. He looked down at her again, not as a gift, not as a prize, but as the girl he'd spent months trying to win over, and who'd only won him over in turn. The pair fell asleep on the couch that night, draped over each other and breathing softly, the only other noise in the room being the crackle of the roaring fire before them.

* * *

He couldn't take it anymore. To hell with whatever his brain was telling him. He knew how to escape this - how to get away from this pain, from this frustration and worry. He'd stuck himself in bed all day, hiding from the truth - from what set him free. Ron wasn't happy, and while his relations with Professor Rowe didn't exactly make him happier, they made him forget about everything else in the world, and that's what he needed, more than ever. He knew what he had to do. He threw himself from bed, rousing Harry.

"Ron? Where are you going?"

"I just need... a walk. I need to do something."

"Come on down into the common room, we'll have a talk."

"I don't want a talk. I'm past talking. But I'll need to talk to you eventually... I'm in a bad spot right now. I'll explain later." He pulled on a sweater and jeans, sneaking quickly out of the Gryffindor tower to where he knew he could find his fix.

He knocked, she was still awake.

"Ron? Where were you today? We had a really important lesson in class, I'm sure you would have done well..."

"I don't care. I don't care about the lessons, or being your little pet, or anything."

She pulled him in, closing the door behind him. "Ron, you are my little pet, if you don't remember... though little isn't exactly the right word..."

Her tone caught him by surprise. Did she know that's what he was there for? Did she know that when she pulled him in, he could tell everything? He could feel that she wasn't wearing a bra, her already stiff nipples grazing him slightly after she removed his sweater, or underwear, the light from the fire behind her showing through her nightshirt and illuminating her bare figure. He could feel the heat between her legs when she pushed herself back onto her desk, wrapping her legs around him. He could feel her heart beating faster next to his own. This, he told himself was wrong. But it felt right. It felt like... like nothing at all. He ravenously took what he needed and gave in return. Whether or not he should have no longer mattered. He was going to continue doing this, whenever he could, if only for the fact that it made him feel at peace.

He started more frantically than he'd expected, tearing her thin, overlarge t-shirt slightly while he pulled it over her head. She mumbled something into his neck about being a naughty boy, needing detention. He didn't mind it. His hands grasped at her breasts, taking from them what he needed. He lowered his head to level with them, and he had to admit, they were even nicer than the last time he'd seen them. He didn't bother to take his time. He sucked each one gently, then rose up again, pulling her legs up and over his arms. Her lean, pale figure was spread out for him to admire, and he did admire it momentarily. He positioned himself, and grinned. He thrust into her, causing her to inhale sharply. She clutched at his hair, at his shoulders, at anything she could reach. He'd turned her into a whimpering, begging lover, and she'd respond as such.

"Ronald... oh yes. My own teacher's pet... and you are the best..."

He pushed her back onto the table, using the edge of it to push in even harder. With every rough thrust, every merciless grasp and flick and finger, with every moan that escaped their lips, he felt a little bit of himself let go. She finished, but he would not release, choosing instead to punish herself and himself further and further with every buck of the hips and hard bit at the nipple until he finally came. If this was how he chose to release himself, so to speak, let him be damned. He was, once again, without a worry in the world.

* * *

Luna took the stairs to Oliver's office two at a time, excited for the hour in front of her. Oliver had promised her another duel, and she'd been waiting for him to do so for weeks. She'd used a little more of her usual perfume than usual, hoping that the romance of Valentine's Day might also get him to kiss her again. It had been ages since he'd dare kiss her, and she'd been waiting for it since, though her head did feel a little fuzzy when it happened...

She knocked and he let her in immediately, sitting down with tea and chatting about things that had happened through his day. He was nervous, his usual accent a little more noticable than usual.

"Oliver, I can barely understand you. Slow down."

He grinned sheepishly and then continued with a rather amusing story of his fifth year classes that day. After he'd tried the flying lesson with them, he'd been afraid to start with anyone else - half of them were terrible on brooms.

"You ready for the duel, then? Wand and everything?"

"Of course. Have I ever not been?"

"Never." He stood, walking across the office and turning to face her. He smiled, then, and she thought it rather peculiar the way in which he did so. She raised her wand, shooting a silent spell at him. He dodged it, sending one right back to her. They continued in this way, hearing only each other's breath, for what seemed like ages. Luna was tired. But she was about to be saved by Oliver. Instead of the usual jet of light or movement associated with a spell, she looked to his wand to see a bunch of flowers. Not just any flowers - but a wild assortment of sorts. Sunflowers, blue irises, something that looked like coriander, white roses, acacia, azalea, orchids, lavender, zinnia, and in the center a large bunch of honeysuckle, the same scent of which she wore in her perfume.

"Oliver... they're beautiful."

"Well yes, but that's not what I had planned."

She laughed a soft laugh, taking the bunch of flowers from his wand tip.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I planned for a bunch of roses... all of this just sprung up when I thought the charm and looked at you. It's strange, really..."

"But can't you see the flowers?"

Yes, he nodded. He saw them. But she could tell from the look on his face that he was confused.

"I don't assume you to know any of this... but I'll explain for you. Sunflowers for loyalty... zinnia for lasting affection. White roses for eternal love. Acacia for secret love. Orchids for love and beauty. Azaleas for fragile passion. Iris for hope. Lavender for, I believe, devotion. And honeysuckle for generous affection. And coriander... well, that's something else entirely, I'll leave that be. You can look that up if you'd like."

"In short... these flowers came out because of my feelings for you? I guess it's romantic, but I wish my magic worked how I wanted it to..."

She laughed, bring the bouquet above her head and circling her arms around his neck. "Better than roses. This is perfect."

He took the opportunity to kiss her once again, and she couldn't have been happier.

"Luna... I mean what I say. Or what the flowers say. It's been difficult... it still is difficult, for us as we are, but... I think I love you."

She laughed, and pulled herself closer to him, nuzzling into his neck. "I love you too, Oliver."

Luna left that night with a smile on her face and a bouquet of flowers in her hand. It was the best Valentine's Day yet, even if the original meaning of the Holiday was somoeone's beheading...

* * *

**AN: Go ahead, kill me for the Teacher/Student smut. It was necessary. Absolutely. It needed to show how completely void of emotion it was - pure instinct, pure lust. There's still a big twist in that subplot, look for it in coming chapters. But how about the rest of it, eh? A fluffy chapter, in general. A little disappointment for Neville. I originally wanted Luna to freak out and run off, but I couldn't seem to write it - it's not where the story wanted to go. Another thing - I really wanted the girls to be a little daring in this chapter, as they're a little sheepish before this... hope it showed through. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and it's really long but I hope it's still enjoyable! I hope you liked this, please review! I'll be back soon! **


	15. Late February

**AN: Read my profile if you want a bit of an update as to what I'm doing lately. I know I seem a little scattered, and I am, but in addition to the five fics I'm writing right now, I am also soon starting three more... god help me, FFnet is going to own me sooner or later. I'll explain them a little more on my profile. Anyway, here's your next update on The Eighth Year. It has taken me a little while to write/edit the way I want it, probably the most time I've ever spent on a chapter. It's not that anything huge happens in it, and that's the problem - a lot of exciting things happened last chapter, and this chapter boggled my mind. Anyway, here it is. I still haven't perfected it, but it is what it is. And it's a _really_ long chapter, so there! Enjoy! **

The buzz around Hogwarts was significant. Harry and Pansy, of all people, knew that the best. They had officially 'come out as a couple' last week, and the questions that filled the air all through the grounds were enough to send anyone's head spinning. They still met, as usual, in their deserted hallway on late nights. They still occasionally had to hide from Filch. But they could finally relax and be together just walking the halls, during free time, whenever they felt like it. Harry was reminded of a particularly interesting morning a few days earlier, they'd crossed courses between classes just outside, and the students on the paths surrounding them all stopped to stare as they wrapped their arms around each other and snogged for several long, heated moments. It _was_ particularly cold outside. The heat was particularly welcomed. But the looks on those around them as they separated were perhaps the funniest thing they'd seen in their lives. Shock, disgust, approval, jealousy, and more than a few that smiled to see the moment of sheer happiness. Harry let her go on to her next class and continued to his, a nagging feeling at the back of his head.

Of course they were happy. They _needed_ each other, in some odd sense. He had, as of late, considered it something of fate when he thought of how they'd run into each other in that deserted corridor. They both needed a shoulder to lean on, someone to vent to, and on top of it all they were, obviously, attracted to each other in more than a few ways. But Harry could not figure out what exactly he liked about Pansy. As far as he remembered before this year, she was crude, and hanging all over Malfoy, and more than a bit snobbish. Why was it that she made him smile all the time? Why was he so absolutely nervous around her sometimes? And what if it was just something they'd dreamt up in their heads, as a result of several nights spent sitting together in an old hallway? He shook the thought from his head and kept walking. He'd learned to live with his doubts about _everything_ in life. When you're told by strangers from a young age that something is special about you and you see none of it, it builds a wall. It happens.

* * *

Ron was pleased, but not with himself. He began wondering, in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts, what it was that drove their secret passions. Was it attraction? Certainly not just that. She was, indeed, good looking - she had nice hair, and skin, and a nice frame to be sure. But that wasn't usually enough to catch his eye. He and Hermione had been attracted to each other after years of flirting and friendship, he and Professor Rowe had a different sort of friendship, he supposed. He wondered who had started it. Had he stepped out of line? Had she? And did the other one just... respond? Was that all it took, for them to start with whatever it was they were doing?

"I'd like you all to turn to Chapter Four, please."

It had been nearly a month since he'd kissed her, and things had only escalated since then. She _had_ tried to stop it, after all, but he'd talked her into it once more, and then after that... they just continued. It was expected. But who expected it? Thinking that much about who had the wrong intentions made his head hurt. But what didn't give him a raging headache, lately? Speaking of raging, he'd been thinking over a particularly steamy Valentines Day, and he was beginning to have an embarrassing problem. As she passed by him, he whispered to her.

"Professor, if you'll excuse me..."

"Of course, Pet."

Ron didn't stop to realize she'd called him Pet, or that he may possibly already be showing, (with a quick downward glance though, he figured he was safe) and decided walking it off was the best course of action. He walked down the sets of stairs, down a few hallways, and outside. It was still frigid cold, and he wasn't prepared for it, but he didn't care, at that point. For some reason, just sitting in that classroom, in such close proximity with her, he couldn't stop trying to think over what had happened and why exactly it had happened in the first place.

He was hurting, of that he was sure. After Hermione had left him, nothing had been quite the same. It was as if all the friendship, inside jokes, sidelong glances, were all for nothing. It had sent him into a depression that he felt nobody could understand, though he was sure Harry had felt something similar when he and Ginny split. Oh, and then there was Ginny, and whatever it was that she may or may not still be up to. And through it all, the only person he felt comfortable with telling was Professor Rowe. He had come to need her, to want her, as a place of comfort and as a way to get out all the hurt, the feelings that he didn't want to feel. He was using her. But then, she was using him too. She had been through a messy divorce, she'd lost everything too. She came to school and, despite her better reasoning, had slept with a student - on quite a few occasions. She _had _tried to stop him... but he hadn't listened. And she couldn't keep up her defenses, she gave in. So she needed him, as well.

"Shit." The bottoms of Ron's robes were soaking from the melting snow, and he realized he'd already missed the end of class. Thank goodness it was his last class of the day, or he'd be miserably late to the next as well. He trudged his way back into the castle, used a simple drying charm, and climbed the stairs to Rowe's classroom to retrieve his things. She'd be in there alone. He was going to grab his things and leave, before something else had a chance to happen, but he found her waiting just inside the door, sitting atop a desk with her legs crossed.

"You called me Pet in class, you know."

"I'm aware. Nobody seemed to notice."

"I haven't spoken to Harry yet. He was right beside me - you had to whisper it over his head to get to me."

"Oops. Come to get your things?"

"Yes, and I have to leave. I have an essay to write for Charms..."

"That's really too bad, but you have all night, don't you? Stay for some tea."

"I can't."

She stood from the desk and in front of the door as he was walking towards it. "Really, Ron. Stay." She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, and Ron couldn't help but glance at it. Shaking his head, he sidestepped and attempted to get through the door.

"Whatever this is, I can't let it get in the way of school this year. I'm having a hard enough time with it."

She frowned but stepped to the side. "If you finish then, come by tonight. I actually have something I'd like to talk to you about, when you have the time. Make quick work, Pet."

"Please, Professor, stop calling me Pet." He stepped through the door and walked as quickly as possible towards the Gryffindor common room. He was going to explain everything to Harry. He was his best mate, he could tell him anything, right?

* * *

Draco had been living in another world for the last few days, he really had. Pansy and Harry had taken their relationship public, and it had gone over rather well for them snogging around, their emerald and ruby scarves tangled around each other as they did. He could only hope that his own romancing of a Gryffindor would go as smoothly. Speaking of, she seemed to be laying quite comfortably next to him. They had made the couch slightly larger, so as to be able to lay on it in front of the fireplace for as long as they pleased. The pair intended to do the same as Harry and Pansy soon, so that they might get it all over with at once. Hermione stretched, the book balancing precariously on her ribcage slipped slightly, but he held it. She looked up at him and smiled, then continued reading.

He decided, then and there, that he would be perfectly content saving Hermione from dropping books on herself for the rest of... well, however long he wanted.

* * *

Coriander meant Lust. _Lust_. Oliver put a hand to his head and shook it. He'd meant everything in the other flowers, as sure as he could be, but the lust of coriander was unexpected. It wasn't even an attractive flower, just a leafy thing he looked like he might cook with. But sure enough, she'd known what every flower and plant meant... even the coriander. He'd looked it up just the day after Valentine's Day, and had been thinking about it since. He never brought it up to her, and she never brought up the flowers, except to thank him again and again and to tell him that she'd charmed them to stay preserved for a very long time. He'd noticed her wearing a flower in her hair nearly every day since then, and the idea that she picked one out to wear and put it back at the end of the day was sweet, and beautiful. Only a girl such as Luna would come up with something like that. And only a girl such as Luna would have claimed his heart so powerfully as she had done...

There was a knock at the door. As he'd been thinking about her, he nearly expected it to be her, but knew it couldn't be. It was well past curfew, and she'd left two hours ago. He opened his door instead to find Headmistress McGonagall, an unusually sour look on her face.

"Wood, may I have a word with you?"

"Of course. Step into my office... what can I do for you? Tea?"

"With sugar and milk. Oliver, I know I've spoken to you before about meeting with Luna."

Oh. That's what this is about. To be perfectly honest, he had a feeling it was her when he heard the knock, and he had a feeling that this is where the conversation would be. He couldn't think of what to say. He just let out a noise that he hoped sounded like acknowledgement.

"I told you before that I didn't think, as Headmistress, that it was right that the two of you were meeting so often. I see you did listen to my advice, at least somewhat - she's always in bed by curfew, and the length of your meetings has been getting shorter and shorter. That, I will commend you on. However, the meetings are still quite frequent, and Luna simply shows up earlier and leaves later - do you see what I'm getting at?"

He let out a breath and set down the tea. "Honestly, Headmistress, I'm just going to tell you what's going on." He didn't realize, until he said it, that he meant it - he was going to have to fully explain his relationship with Luna to McGonagall. He'd quit a major part in a major Quidditch team and dealth with the wrath of his manager. He'd jumped headfirst into teaching at Hogwarts. And he'd fallen, of course, for Luna. And all McGonagall did was cock her head and furrow her brow.

"Wood, I think I'd like to hear this one. I've been thinking of explanations the past few days, but surely you've been working on more than essays over the past months. She's here nearly every night!"

"I know that. And I'm not going to try to argue the fact that our meeting like this, it's not right for a student and a teacher, but..."

"But you have feelings for the girl."

"They are mutual feelings, professor. I accidentally hit her in the face with a bludger, and she still has feelings for me. Remember, she's the one who walks to my door."

"I figured as much. Oh, Oliver. The problem isn't your ages - I'm sure you know, but your profession. As a teacher... you're hiding something from the other students. Giving special instruction to Luna. And as she has been getting let off easy on homework and things... do you see why, educationally, this could be a problem?"

Oliver was shocked. He wasn't in trouble, really, for seeing Luna then? It was favoring her in classes? "McGonagall, is this really happening?"

The older woman began to smile, then laugh with earnest. "Oliver, after all the stunts you helped the Weasley twins pull in your years, I would love to get you in trouble for more. But in all honesty, Luna needs someone right now, and you're just as troubled as she is. You're perfect. She's of age, I can't really stop you. But you have to understand, if it got around that the two of you were involved, and students made the connection to her not doing as much work as the rest of them... it would be a disaster."

Oliver still couldn't fully comprehend what she was saying, but he thought he had a solution to it. "Minerva... what if the students knew about Luna and I? And what if she started doing all the work again? Really, the no-homework thing was just a joke... she beat me in a duel."

She contemplated it for a moment, a look on her face that he couldn't quite place. "I, well... I don't see that it would be a problem. She's of age, she has no living parents that could disagree, rest their souls, if she's doing all the work and making her fair grade... then I suppose it might work. And a student beat a professor, in a duel?"

"It was terribly embarrassing. She bound me up with _ferula _and left. But yes, brilliant. I'll just have to figure out a way to break it to them all without making a big deal out of it. "

"Perhaps the best way to do that is just to enjoy a few walks around the grounds, Wood. Holing up in your office doesn't do much for appearances. And let Luna know her workload will return to normal, that it's my only stipulation."

"Of course, thanks Minerva. I thought this talk was going to go much worse..."

"I wasn't even sure where it would go, not in all my years at Hogwarts have I seen a student and a teacher together..."

They worked out the final details and the Headmistress left Oliver in particularly good spirits. Little did she know, it was not the only time that year she would find a teacher and student together...

* * *

"So basically, you've been shagging a professor to get over Hermione."

"Basically, yes." Ron felt that he was, at least, speaking more calmly than he felt. Harry was now the only person not directly involved that knew what was going on.

"Ron, you realize that this sounds absolutely terrible."

"That's why I'm telling you now, Harry. I felt sick about it."

"When was the last time you... you know?"

"Valentines Day."

"Ron, that was three days ago."

"I know. I'm terrible. But Harry, what do I do about it?"

"Do you intend to stop it? You're going to stop it, right? Ron, she's a professor."

Ron thought for a moment. The last time he'd seen her, he'd been mad at her for assuming that they would. But perhaps it was only her assumption that he was mad at. They were using each other, mutually. She to get over her divorce, he to get over the pain of his only love leaving him. He couldn't decide if this was a bad thing of not.

"I don't know if I'm going to stop it just yet. I think that... when it happens, and I don't hurt anymore... it's nice."

"You realize you sound mental, right?"

"Oh, Harry. I know. But think about it. You remember what it was like when Ginny left you. It's not... it's not easy. And at least when I'm with her, I don't think about any of it. And maybe it's only temporary, but as soon as I'm out of this damned place, I'll feel better anyway. D'you know what it feels like to be locked in a castle with a few hundred people who think you're crazy?"

Harry contemplated this for a minute. "Yes, actually, I do. But I never had to shag anyone to get out of it. Ron, just tell me you'll think about it. You're my best mate and this just doesn't sound good to me."

"I'll think about it Harry, I promise."

He didn't. And within two days, he was back at it again.

* * *

Six months ago, to the day, Oliver had sent a bludger smack into her face. Luna absentmindedly reached a hand up to her face, touching the spots that remained bruised for a few days after. She didn't want them mended right away after, she liked the look of them quite well. The bruises, however, were long gone, but her association with Oliver Wood was not gone at all - in fact, it had grown a hundredfold. Luna couldn't remember really ever having feelings for a boy - not at all through Hogwarts - but then, Oliver wasn't a boy. He was a young man of 23, he was a man with a career and with a smile that made her think of summers at home with her father. Oliver made her really, truly happy again - and she'd wondered, after the disappearance of her father, whether or not she could ever be so happy again. She felt as if she'd been unable to breathe, without knowing where her father was, whether he was alive or... not. But with every kiss, with every long embrace, Luna felt the breath coming back into her, slowly but surely. She climbed the stairs to Oliver's office, another of the flowers from his bouquet in her hair. The orchid she'd spent two minutes attempting to pin behind her ear had finally stuck in place, and she raised a hand to touch it - and once again, her old bump from the bludger - as he opened the door.

"Luna. There you are, I've been waiting. Not that you're late. Just that, well, I talked to McGonagall yesterday. Or really, she talked to me. And there's something interesting going on."

"Oliver, please, calm down. I can't understand a word you're saying." She reached up on tiptoes to press her lips to his quickly before sitting down. He sat beside her, a grin already plastered on his face.

"McGongall came by my office last night - she'd already brought up things about you once..."

"When was that?"

"It's irrelevant, but anyway, I basically put it all off to studying the first time, but this time she knew something was up - the portrait outside my door had seen you walk out with flowers last week. And so I told her, I came out with it, that we have... feelings for each other. And she said that she couldn't really stop it, not that she wanted to, because we're of age. And she even kind of made it sound like she liked that we were together. Anyway, her stipulation on leaving us be and letting us be together is that you have to go back to doing all of your work, we can't meet in my office often anymore, we have to show everyone else we're together, and... well, that's it."

"That doesn't sound too bad. I imagine it'll be a little strange at first. Did you hear about Harry and Pansy?"

"I did. And that caused enough people to go into shock. Imagine the both of us walking around... oh Luna this could get weird."

She scooted closer to him, curling into his side and sighing. "Oh Oliver, it's already weird. You're a professor, I'm a student, you hit me in the face with a Bludger six months ago, you're a famous Quidditch player, I was part of the group that broke into the Department of Mysteries and fought in the war... this is going to get really interesting."

He kissed the top of her head and smiled. That was it then. "Starting tomorrow, we, you know, tell people. Care to take a walk during your break, after lunch?"

"Of course, dear. Through the castle, outside, hallways and crowded areas... I think that'll work nicely."

"You're brilliant. Alright, it's almost curfew. Time for you to go."

Instead of kissing her goodnight just inside his office door, as usual, he walked her to just outside the Ravenclaw dormitories and kissed her then. "Goodnight, Luna."

"Oliver, what are we going to say when people ask?"

That hit him. He didn't really know. He supposed... "I suppose you'll be my girlfriend. And I'll be your opposite."

"I'm nervous about that. Telling people that."

"Then just tell them... that we're in a relationship. And we're still working on it, getting together."

"That sounds good. I'll say that. Goodnight, Oliver." She gave him a little wave over her shoulder, answered a rather absurd question, and was allowed forth into the room.

* * *

"Heather, I want to apologize."

"Go to hell, Longbottom."

"Look, I wasn't thinking, I was excited about Valentines Day, and,"

"And you couldn't keep yourself from feeling me up in the process? Nice sense of personal restraint. If you don't mind, I'm reading, and I'd like to be left alone."

He didn't know what he could do to make things better. He'd only meant to show her how he felt, and then she'd freaked out and told him she knew about the other girls he'd seen before. What was he supposed to say to that? Of course it was all true, even if he didn't like hearing it aloud. And he'd tried apologizing four times over the last week, but to no avail.

"Leave, Neville. Please. Just leave." The look on her face was sad, even though her tone was angry. He knew then, what he had to do. He had to quit talking to other girls nearly entirely. He had to woo Heather. He had to show her, and tell her, without even getting near her. He'd have to show up around things she liked, he'd have to write her letters, he'd have to show her he appreciated her more than anyone else he knew, especially more than the other girls. They weren't even in his mind anymore. He couldn't remember half of their names. It had been all about Heather for months now, and if she couldn't see that now, he would show her.

* * *

Hermione dressed her best, though she couldn't quite tell why. She'd already, obviously, won the heart of her dorm mate, fellow head student, and Slytherin counterpart, Draco Malfoy. But she threw on an Emerald green sweater anyway, charming her hair to fall in loose waves around her shoulders and back, wore her favorite jeans, and slid her favorite boots on over them. With a spritz of perfume, which previous to Christmas she'd never owned in her life, she grabbed her coat and stepped out to see him waiting on the couch.

"Morning. Hermione, I think we should start telling our friends."

"Good morning to you too, Draco. And excuse me?"

"We've been talking about it for a week anyway, but what with Pansy and Harry..."

"I still can't get over that, but then again I can't call it overly strange. Look at us." She gestured between them and laughed.

"Which is precisely why it's probably best to do something about us now. Tell our friends. Hope that they're distracted enough by everything else. And, you know, continue on."

"It's probably for the best. I'll tell Harry in the morning, I have Potions with him. He'll be with Pansy, so if you'd like to tell her first, do it at breakfast."

"I don't have a class first. I'll come with you. If not, one is bound to tell the other as soon as they see each other."

"This is true. And I'll tell Luna, I suppose, and Neville. I don't know if I can tell Ron."

"I'll have to tell Blaise, and Goyle. And if you don't want to tell him, he'll find out on his own eventually."

"That's true, but I feel like he deserves at least a little explanation. We still talk at meals and everything, even if it's mostly small talk. I was the one who unexpectedly left him."

"If you'd like. I'm going for a walk, anyway. Care to join me?"

"I dressed for it."

He smiled and stood, reaching out a hand to take hers. If people didn't guess it already by seeing them walking around the grounds holding hands, and possibly snogging, then maybe the rest of Hogwarts needed a little lesson in observation. She really did hope he'd kiss her. It was quite nice, last time.

* * *

She decided to stop meeting all of them, except maybe Dean. Ginny sat staring at the list that had gotten her in trouble, that had given away her secret - she had been looking for purely physical interactions that year, and she'd had plenty of them. But perhaps, with the gossip surrounding her, with the stories and assumptions surrounding her and each of the men on this list, it was time to end it all. Perhaps being single and lonely was the right thing to do, even if it sounded like the stupidest idea she'd ever heard in her life. Truth was, Ginny hadn't intended on it all going this far. She'd snogged Dean, then slept with him. And then thought it interesting to sleep with Seamus and compare the two, as they were best friends. And they hadn't found out for a long time, so it was perfect. Then came the others, one by one. And at that point, she didn't care what she'd call herself or how she'd be feeling.

She took one last look at the list and counted theoretical notches in her bedpost. There had been twelve when her brother found it over the holidays. And since then, she'd added a few marks next to Seamus, more to Dean, and a new name or two as her curiosity grew. Even to that, she'd wished to add two other names - Neville had always seemed interesting to her, as she had heard of his endeavors that year but never experienced them. The other was Blaise Zabini, as one of Draco's closest friends and a Slytherin, it would have been intersting just to remember, years down the line, that it had happened. Plus, she couldn't deny it. He was ridiculously good looking. Perhaps she could talk to him, soon. Perhaps, in turning a new leaf, she could wean herself off Dean or Seamus, whichever she kept on, by connecting herself with Blaise, one way or another.

She stood, clenching her fist and crumbling the paper in her hand. She was tired of what this piece of paper made her out to be. She was tired of being like that at all. She was tired of the looks Harry and Ron gave her whenever she talked to _any_ guy. This was it, this was her move. She stepped towards the fireplace and tossed in the bit of parchment, standing still and watching until even the ashes were gone.

* * *

**AN: Pretty long chapter, and I only see them getting longer as the last nine or ten chapters come through. This is going to be at least 100k words when I'm done, and I'm glad for it. In November I'm taking on NaNoWriMo, and I know (if only because of how much I write on FFnet) that I'll make it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I've missed you all, I'll be back to update here soon. **


	16. Early March

**AN: I've gotten a little feedback from people complaining that there isn't enough Dramione in this story, and I've got to explain that a little. Yes, the characters listed are Draco and Hermione - but if you pay attention to the summary, it clearly states that there are other couples, other plot lines - and I intend to spotlight these couples just as much as the Dramione. They're at a kind of boring, low point right now - they kissed, and they're going to tell their friends. And knowing the things their friends are into, it's not like it's going to be a lot of drama. Just wait until they come out to the rest of the school - it's going to cause quite a big stir, like a hundred times bigger than Pansy and Harry, and it'll provide for a lot of fun... also, yeah I know it takes me a while to update this fic. I'm moving a lot faster on the other ones because they have shorter chapters. The last two chapters of this fic have been 5k+ words, and an even 8k words. That's a lengthy chapter, it takes a while to write. ALSO, I know that there hasn't been much direct contact between Harry, Hermione, and Ron. But think of it this way - Harry was dumped by Ron's sister, and Ron doesn't think too much of it. Hermione dumped Ron, and now she's with Draco. Can you see it all being VERY awkward? I have mentioned once or twice that they see each other 'only at mealtimes and classes' but apparently not seeing direct scenes, means you want them. I've written a little of that in, it's a big Hermione-centric chapter. Anyway, now that you know, enjoy!**

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* * *

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"Okay, what is it you want to talk about?" Harry jumped up onto an empty desk, in the empty classroom Hermione had told him to meet her in after class. She wanted to talk. It wasn't just Harry she'd needed to talk to, either, but he was the first on her list. Ron came next. Then Ginny.

"Anything. Everything. Harry, we've been distant lately."

He let out a breath, hanging his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I only see you when I'm bound to run into you... I don't think I've been in the common room for more than an hour or so since the beginning of the year. There's a lot I need to talk about, too."

"There's something I need to tell you, Harry."

"Sorry, 'Mione... I've just been distracted lately is all. What with people talking about Pansy and myself..."

"And that's what I'm trying to talk to _you_ about, Harry. And another thing, but that can wait. When did this thing between you and Pansy happen? When did the two of you start talking?"

"Months ago, really. I think it was just before Halloween... she caught me talking to a portrait in a hallway. And that's where I've been going, by the way. There's this corridor, and it's easy to just get away and think, and relax, and not deal with questions about the war or Voldemort or anything. And she found me there and started showing up, and we just got to talking."

"And it took you four months to say anything to us about it? And you just walked in together to Potions last week, what was that all about?"

"Well, it took me four months to work up the courage to kiss her, actually. And for us to figure out that we wanted to... be together. I think I stalled because of the shock about Ginny, and because Ron's got his own problems going on right now, I'm not even getting into that."

"Wow. Our predicaments are much more alike than I thought. And to think, if we just told each other earlier, this would be so much less of a mess." The silence sat between them as if it were a third person - and the conjured image of the third person that would belong with them was suddenly brought to their minds.

"Harry, what's been going on with Ron? He won't even speak to me anymore, and I don't think it's because we're not together anymore."

"He's gotten himself into a bit of trouble. And I don't know exactly how to stop it. I don't even know if I _can_ stop it. He's gone a little bit insane..."

"I don't even think I want to know, at this point. Ron's a disaster now. I just wish I could make things up to him."

"Then... try." Harry looked up into Hermione's eyes, and so many things were said in the silence. "It won't take much. Just... say hello. Tell him you miss him, as a friend, and talk about things. He's simple. I'm sure he'd talk to you if it were more like that instead of you attacking him for ignoring you - and don't act like you haven't done just that, either."

She remembered a particular afternoon, chasing him down a hallway in tears when he wouldn't respond to her. Right. "That. Well, I'll work on it I guess."

"That's probably for the best. As for me, I guess, I'm just dealing with the rest of the school and their shock about Pansy and I, we aren't exactly the most expected couple, but I think we get along alright..."

"Harry, I kissed Draco Malfoy."

"... and I think we could even last after the school - wait, what? I think I just heard you wrong. I _thought_ I just heard you saying something about yourself and Malfoy."

"No, you heard me correctly. 'I kissed Draco Malfoy'. I said it."

"Why on Earth would you do that?"

"Kiss him, or tell you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Both?"

"Well, I'm telling you because we've decided to tell our friends about us. It's been coming on for a little while, I suppose..."

"But why did you kiss him to begin with?"

"Harry, it's hard to explain." She bit her lip and turned away slightly, but smiled all the same - any time she thought of that night, not so long ago, a smile split across her face. It was impossible to get rid of. "You see, we started living in Head Student quarters. And at first we fought like children - we'd yell and scream and I slammed my door in his face more than a few times. But he proved to have changed - he asked for my help on schoolwork, and I tutored him and he thanked me. And we started talking, and while he insulted my choices and my intelligence at times, he always apologized - he always made it up to me. And then he stopped being so harsh... he started to understand me. In November, I got so mad at him I couldn't speak, and he waited four days, every moment of free time, in our common room. Just to make it up to me, he took me for a walk and got us hot chocolate... and he hugged me. It was the strangest day of my life."

"You're still not explaining to me why you kissed him."

"Oh shut it, Harry. I'll explain that in a minute. I've heard from everyone in the castle about you and Pansy, I'd like for you to know a little about Draco and I before you make assumptions."

He shut his mouth. He'd never seen Hermione snap at him, like that, but he internally agreed that he deserved it after being impatient.

"Anyway, Christmas break came and went... we realized we missed each other. When I showed up to the platform, he was the first person my eyes went to - and he found me in the crowd, and he held my hand onto the train so I wouldn't get lost between everyone. He told me he cared about me, and was terribly embarrassed by admitting it. He really cares about his Head Student duty, you know? It was right before Valentines Day, he hugged me, and I saw something in his face... he had honest-to-Merlin feelings for me. Valentine's Day we were supposed to exchange gifts, but what do you buy the man who has everything? So I kissed him. And now we're here."

Harry stared - openly, shocked-stared - for at least a minute and a half. "That's not like Malfoy at all."

"I think Professor McGonagall was right though, Harry. The war changed him. It changed all of us, but I think it changed him most of all. He cares a lot about me, and about Hogwarts... I think it was just his parent's prejudice that made him like he was before."

"That's... more than I'll give him. But I'm happy for you, I guess."

"And I for you. You realize we're both with Slytherins, right? The same house we've despised for years."

"Oh yeah. Trust me, I know. It's been going through my head for weeks."

* * *

"I don't care!"

"Ronald, you're acting like a child! All I do is come in here to talk to you and you're acting like you're better than me, like I don't deserve your time!"

"You left me, Hermione, to go off on Head student Duties with Draco - and in case you hadn't noticed, you barely speak to me anymore. Seems to me like _you're _the one acting like you're better than_ me_."

His lashing was one that Hermione wasn't sure she deserved, until she stopped to think about it. She sat in the chair behind her and put her face in her hands, breathing deeply. She thought about what Ron had said from his own perspective - she left him, to focus on Head Girl duties. She spent a ton of time with Draco. She barely sat with them at games, meals, and classes. She hadn't been in the Gryffindor common room more than a few times since the first day of first term. And on top of it all? She was about to tell him that she and Draco were together now. How was he supposed to take that?

"You're right. Ron, for once I'm not even going to try to argue it."

"See, I knew you'd - wait, what?"

"You're right."

"I never thought I'd hear you say those words, 'Mione. I thought you'd try and tell me I was being stupid."

"It may be hard to believe, Ron, but over the past few months I've been doing a lot of thinking - about everything. And I had a little trouble in classes, I'm sure you noticed. It wasn't... an easy time for me. But I had some help."

"Harry told me, you know. About Draco."

"That. He. What? That little git. I should curse him into the next century, right now. I wanted to break it to you myself. I wanted..."

"It doesn't matter, really. It's probably better that he told me - if you would have jumped that on me like this, it wouldn't have been pretty."

"I suppose so. And what did you think about it?"

"I guess I'm just glad you're happy. I mean, I've moved on a little too, I guess. I've been... talking to someone, in a sense."

This shocked her. She had expected Ron to be upset at the news of her and Draco - not only had he not been that upset, he'd already been seeing someone as well. But that, perhaps, was another product of the past few months - she'd thought that Ron would beg her back, but apparently, he just wanted to be her friend. Apparently, she didn't mean as much... but no. It wasn't that she didn't mean as much, it was just that they meant different things to each other now. They were just friends again.

"Oh. Well. Who is it?"

"That, actually, I don't want to talk about."

She laughed, and he couldn't help but smile a little at her next statement. "Ron, I've been seeing _Draco Malfoy._ And you can't tell me who you've been seeing?"

"Not really. I promise, I'll tell you soon. I just have a few things to work out, right now. I have to settle things first."

"Alright... I'm glad we talked, at least. I'm sorry I've been so strange over the past few months."

"I'm glad, too." He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled, and even if it was only for a second, she remembered what it felt like to love Ronald Weasley.

* * *

The stares around them were enough to make Luna want to hide behind Oliver entirely. As it was, she walked half a step behind him, her face held close to his shoulder, her hand furiously gripping his.

"...and I talked to my mother about us, when I went back and saw her. I told her you were the one that convinced me to go see her. She likes you, from what I've told her. Despite, you know, the obvious difficulties..."

"Mhmm." Luna could barely focus, could barely keep moving. The stares weren't mean, they weren't disgusted, they were just shocked - a few of them, actually, looked quite pleased. It was going to be talk around the castle, obviously, but it didn't seem to be something that people would mention with negativity. She'd passed a few of her fellow Ravenclaw students, she'd passed Ginny Weasley, she'd passed Harry and Ron walking through the corridors. And of course, they'd just passed professor McGonagall, and the almost smug smile on her face was enough to make Luna herself smile.

"We've got class in a few minutes, it's probably best to head up now." _We. _Right.

"Oliver, people are staring."

It was only then that she thought he noticed - he froze in his tracks, swivelling his head to take in every pair of eyes around them. "That they are... that they are. Did you get your paper done? That was supposed to be six inches, which isn't much, but a bit for only a night. How'd you do?"

"What?"

"Your work. Did you finish it?"

"I... yes." Did he honestly not care about the people watching them? Immediately, the thought sounded strange to Luna. She'd never cared what people thought about her before, why start now? Especially when all of the people looking at the pair, were smiling. That couldn't be a bad thing...

"Brilliant. McGonagall really will think we've been doing more extra lessons than we have. Not that she doesn't already know a few of our extra lessons were centric on, well, not writing..."

He stopped, surprising her. "Are you alright, Luna?"

"Yes, I suppose. It's just... strange. People are staring, and that I can handle, but they're all so surprised."

"I know that. We've just said that. But look at them. Do they look like they don't think well of us?"

"No."

"Exactly. They're just as pleased as we are. Relax, Luna. This is why I didn't do this before I talked to McGonagall - I want to make this go as smoothly as possible. For the both of us."

She looked into his eyes and she knew, just like that, that he was being absolutely honest with her, he _meant_ it. He slid his hand down her arm to catch her hand again, and his warm fingers interlaced with her own, and suddenly everything felt right again.

* * *

Draco had been thinking about things. He was reminiscing, really - though the images he brought to his mind were far from pleasant. He was remembering his first seven years at Hogwarts - full of lies, tricks, anger, torment, ridicule, and hate - all directed from himself towards someone else. His animosity in his childhood years had been replaced now by a certain degree of respect for everyone around him - the war had affected each of them, even if only indirectly, and it was something to remember, that they'd struggled. Draco himself had struggled - whilst the rest of the school was suffering there, he was pulled out early by his parents for Death Eater business. He unconsciously lifted his hand to his left forearm, brushing over the faint mark left there - the Dark Mark. His hadn't been strong to begin with, and he thought it ironic that it was his fading the fastest of anyone's he'd heard of - it was a pale grey now, close to disappearing entirely from his arm and from his life.

McGonagall had seen this early on - from the first weeks after the final battle, she'd been corresponding with him. His own life post-war had been nothing more or less than the quiet _after_ the storm. His father fled the country for Albania, determined to save himself from Anti-Voldemort sentiments around him. Her letters had been warm and full of concern, and while the boy he was then couldn't fully understand it all, the young man he was today was beginning to understand her interest in him. She had been right about him changing before he was even certain that he could - he was a pureblood who didn't care about his bloodline anymore. He was a Slytherin legacy who couldn't care less about his House colors. He was organized, efficient, and at times, cheerful. He cared deeply about those close to him - his friends, his mother, and as of late, Hermione Granger.

The slick-haired youth of his past would have scoffed and/or grimaced at the idea of even living within a hundred feet of Hermione. He would have run somewhere far away at the slightest foreshadowing of what had come of this year - the Head student meetings, long nights studying, walks through the snow, that moment getting back on the train when he'd held her hand - but the new Draco wouldn't have it any other way. he grabbed a bit of parchment from his trunk and began penning a note to McGonagall.

_Headmistress,_

_Thank you. For everything. _

_-Draco_

That would suffice. He bribed a third year boy in the halls outside the Head Student quarters to deliver it to McGonagall personally and watched the youth scamper away, unnerved of course by Draco's own presence. Younger children still held a great deal of respect for him, though it had turned into something he'd liked. Younger children still took his bribes. At least that still held true. He'd tell his fellow Slytherins, about himself and Hermione - and perhaps about the letters from McGonagall.

* * *

Pansy was sitting beside Blaise in the common room when Draco came in.

"Draco? Haven't seen you in here since, oh, term began. What's the occasion?"

He sat in an overstuffed armchair across from her, shaking his head. "No occasion. Decided to stop by. I've been in a rather good mood, lately."

"Could it have to do with a span of two days that you didn't even emerge from your dormitory, except for meals? Honestly Draco, you're not very slick."

"What on earth are you talking about, Parkinson?"

"You're shacking up with Granger. We get it. It's fine. We've done the same."

He eyed her curiously and Blaise laughed before Pansy caught the joke. "You've been shacking up with Granger, have you?"

She rolled her eyes at him, but he saw a slight smile on her face. "No, not with Granger. But I have had a few interesting nights with Potter."

"I know that already."

"And our friend Blaise here has newfound affections for his own Gryffindor."

"I'm assuming it's the Weasley girl."

"Of course it is."

Blaise spluttered from the seat next to Pansy. "How did you know that?"

"Blaise Zabini, if there's one thing you have learned about me over the past seven and a half years, what is it?"

"That you're sneaky, conniving, and cruel?"

"And which of those still hold true?"

"Sneaky. Right. I won't even ask. But yes, I'll admit. I've taken a liking to the Weasley girl. To Ginny. She's interesting."

Pansy shook her head. "She was shagging half of the boys in _our_ year. Who knows about her own."

"I don't want to talk about that. She's obviously changed... I remember how she used to speak to Dean Thomas and his friend Seamus... she barely speaks to them anymore." Blaise turned away, obviously displeased with Pansy's observations.

Draco stepped in, sensing the beginning of a nearly-famous Parkinson/Blaise debate. "It doesn't matter. We've all fallen for Gryffindors, haven't we?"

"All? What do you mean by all?" Pansy whipped her head around to look at him, grinning like a mad woman.

"Parkinson... I was really hoping you wouldn't catch that."

"I did. Draco, have you fallen for Hermione Granger?"

Blaise turned to look now, and under the gaze of two of his closest friends his defense fell. "Yes. And don't bloody say you both knew it would happen, I don't want to hear it."

"But it did happen. Wait, what _did_ happen?" Blaise waggled his eyebrows and smirked.

"Nothing, Zabini. Well, she kissed me. That happened."

Pansy was on the edge of her seat, very nearly falling off it. "She did what?"

"She kissed me. We were exchanging gifts for Valentine's Day. And she basically said she had nothing to buy for me, I had everything. So you know, she did it."

"Wow." Blaise was stunned, and then silent. Pansy, however, was not.

"I can't believe she kissed you. I kissed Harry! And Blaise is after Ginny. Right then, we're in a mess, aren't we?" She was nearly bouncing up and down in her seat.

"Yes, I believe we are. But it's a good mess, I think." From the corner of his eye, he saw Blaise nod a little and saw the corners of his lips turn up very slightly. Things could turn out alright for these three Slytherins. He said his goodbyes after a few more moments of conversation and then set out to find Hermione - she might be in the library, or perhaps in their common room, reading the books he gave her. It was in a corridor near the library that he froze solid - he heard the voice of Ron Weasley, and not in a context he'd ever wanted or expected to hear.

"I can't do this anymore, Dolores. You're a professor!"

"And the Lovegood girl and Professor Wood are doing alright, they're in an actual _relationship_. We're not even public about anything."

Draco slipped himself as close to the corner as possible, listening closely to the conversation. This was interesting. What wasn't right?

"I just don't think it's right, okay? I don't want to keep doing it."

"Ron, darling, just think about it. It's for the better for both of us. I can get out my tension, you can do what you need to ease your feelings from Hermione... we can get over our past selves. We can move on. And at the end of the year, we leave. It'll be exceptional."

"No. It's not _exceptional_. It's terrible!"

He clearly recognized the two voices of Ron Weasley and their new Transfiguration professor, Dolores Rowe.

"Besides, Dolores. I'm over Hermione. And she's plainly over me."

"What, moved on with the Malfoy boy? I figured. And if you're so over her, why am I the only person you're seeing? Why under the circumstances? And why, if you're so over Hermione, do you throw yourself at me just to distract yourself from her?"

Draco was sure he couldn't be hearing himself right. Was Ron Weasley messing around with their professor?

"Yeah, you know what? She's happy, and that's all well, but I don't care. I really don't. And I talked to a friend, and he even thinks it should stop. I just don't want this to go on anymore."

He heard a few slow footsteps, and then breathing. The pair had to be less than two meters from the corner he was hiding behind.

"Ron." She was whispering. Draco listened harder. "Don't do this. Just... have a little fun. It's all innocent, of course. Just let yourself go..." There was a shift, and then the plain sound of snogging. He could hear them gripping each other's hair, breathing hard, squirming around. It was, to be honest a little strange, but Draco listened in all the same. He heard a zipper, and he heard the dropping of robes and jeans. He could only imagine what was going on around this deserted corridor, what he might find if he looked around to see what could possibly make that squelching sound he was hearing. Maybe he didn't want to know. But then, he did. So he waited until he heard sounds of what was, for sure, something he was interested in discovering, before stepping around the corner to observe the carnal disaster in the hallway before him.

They had clearly done this before - Ron knew all the right places to hold her leg or grip her hair, and they both jumped about a mile when they saw him.

"Having fun, are you both?"

They grasped around for their clothes, clutching them to themselves.

"Really, Weasley, a professor? Naughty."

He looked about to open his mouth, but Draco held a hand up to stop him. "I don't want to hear it. You've been driving Granger crazy for months. And you've been shagging her all year?"

"Not all year. Just for the last few months."

Draco scoffed. "As if that makes it any better. Honestly, I think you should both get dressed and part ways. Professor, I'd hate to have to go to McGonagall about what I've just seen, and Ron, this at least Hermione deserves to know, and you know it. Stop it, now."

He stepped away, back down the corridor towards the library. He couldn't decide if what he had just seen was going to make for some seriously good gossip, or was just going to make him vomit.

* * *

The first day, he brought her a note. In the note, Neville apologized for being a right prat and for trying to snog Heather when she wasn't really expecting it. On the second, he brought her another note, full of things he remembered about their times together. On the third, he brought her a flower from the greenhouses - one he'd particularly taken a fancy to that afternoon. She'd accepted it and worn it in her hair throughout the day. On the fourth day, he brought her another letter - asking her forgiveness. She still did not give it. What on earth was it going to take for him to win her back?

* * *

Hermione side-stepped a gaggle of first years on her way to her dormitory. What had Harry meant, about Ron being in a bit of trouble? Surely if he was, she would have heard about it by now. Had he pranked someone? Not done his work again? Was he just being a foul git to everyone around him? Honestly, talking to him over the last few months had been just as bad as when they'd been on the hunt for Horcruxes, on his turn to wear the locket, on a rainy day with no food and no news of home. He was downright unpleasant at times, and she couldn't forget that, even after their sort-of talk. But most of all, she just wanted to understand him.

Draco was sitting on the couch inside when she got in, just staring at the fire.

"Interesting ashes, Draco?" She sat down, curling herself into his side.

"Absolutely fascinating. But not just the ashes. Hermione, there's something I've got to tell you about."

She frowned. "Is something going on?"

"Not with me, no. There's just... something I ran into on the way here. And it's something I think you should know about, even if it is a little strange and possibly hurtful."

"I don't see where you're going with this, Draco, but you're scaring me."

"It's Ron. It's whatever you said Harry was saying, I'm nearly sure of it."

She said nothing at first, only nodded. After a moment she looked at him. "I know something he's doing is wrong, but Harry wouldn't talk about it. Ron wouldn't either. He said he's seeing someone else now, but he's terrified of telling me who it is, I can tell. Is that what it's about?"

"They haven't exactly been just talking."

"I figured. But who is it?"

"That's the terrible part. Even _I_ don't want to tell you. But I suppose if I don't, no one will."

"And?"

"Hermione, Ron is seeing Professor Rowe."

It took nearly two minutes for Hermione to get over the shock of what he'd just said. "Ron... Professor Rowe?"

"I caught them just tonight, I was looking for you. I found them around a corner, doing things..."

"What kinds of things?"

"You don't want to know."

"Draco. What were they doing?"

"They were... having it off around the corner. Right in the corridor."

"Are you mad?"

"No, I just saw it."

"This is ridiculous. Were they really?"

"I wish they weren't, and I wish I hadn't seen it at all."

"But you saw it? With your own eyes?"

"No, Hermione, I borrowed a pair. Yes, I saw them. And I thought you needed to know."

"Well... thanks I guess. Now I see what Harry meant about Ron being in a spot of trouble... he's gotten himself into a real mess now, hasn't he?"

"A disaster. I didn't know whether or laugh or to just... I don't know."

"Yes. Alright then Draco, I have a conversation to have with a certain Ronald Weasley, and then I'll be back. Enjoy your time. I won't be long."

She rose again and shut the door behind her, and Draco wondered if he'd made the right decision at all.


	17. Late March

**AN: Okay, so I'm back. This fic gets updated a bit slower because the chapters are SO LONG. I'd like to think it's a good thing. Big thanks to my beta MioneWriter007, who reads through the chapters I'm not sure about and catches all those little mistakes I make. Okay, enjoy!**

He couldn't believe Draco had seen them - and worst of all, he'd intended on seeing Rowe to break things off, to stop what they were doing. He just found, unfortunately, that she was right - he needed her, in some sick and twisted way. And she needed him as well. He set his face in his hands again, leaning on the desk in front of him while he heard her lecturing on Transfiguring two separate objects into one larger, completely different one. Personally, he knew he'd do fine - there was something about her teaching that made it easier on him, and she had been giving him extra lessons, even if those didn't usually involve very much studying at all...

He thought about Hermione - she'd come to speak to him about it, and at first he was furious. Who was she to say what he could and couldn't do? Who was she to say what was good for him and what wasn't? He quickly realized his own answer - she was his friend, despite everything. She had been his friend, despite his cruel treatment of her in their first two months at Hogwarts, despite their constant bickering as school chidren, despite his leaving her and Harry on their hunt for Horcruxes. She had put up with a lot of his misdeeds, and she had even loved him, at one time. She was looking out for his best interests, and he yelled at her.

Of course she'd done a number of things herself to annoy him nearly to death - she barely spent any real time with himself or Harry, she was too busy with her big new life to do any of that - but she had been the one to approach them, to talk to them, to make an effort - maybe she was trying, after all. He sought her out after class, nearly having to chase her down on her way to her dormitory after her last class of the day.

"'Mione. Look, I want to apologize..."

She turned to him, and he nearly jumped back in surprise - her eyes were filled with tears, sitting on the brim and waiting to fall onto her face. "I can't talk right now, Ronald. Not now."

He followed her still. "What's wrong? Hermione, please talk to me."

"I can't - not about this. Please, Ron, just don't..." Her walk slowed, however, and he took the opportunity to jump in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders, ducking slightly to look into her eyes.

"Hermione, something is wrong, and I shook you off the other day but I want to talk. Please."

She nodded, wiping her tears on her sleeve before motioning for him to follow her. "I found this place just last week, doing patrol. I'm not sure if any other students know about it yet. You have twenty minutes to really, fully explain yourself."

She shut the door of a tiny, empty storage room behind them. It was no bigger than eight feet in either direction when you looked at it, but of course with expansion charms, the room could fit anything in Hogwarts inside.

"Speak."

"I really wanted to tell you, but I just couldn't figure out how. And the night Draco saw me, I had intended to stop things - I wanted to stop seeing her - but I just couldn't resist..."

"Spare me the details, Ron. You're sleeping with a Teacher. And I'm Head Girl. I should report you immediately, Rowe would be fired and your head would be on the chopping block for a month's worth of detentions or worse."

"I don't see how it's any different from Luna and Ol- Professor Wood!"

"They're in an open relationship, not sexual, and they aren't hiding anything behind their backs. I asked you, Ron. And you wouldn't tell me. I had to find out another way, and there is no 'keep-my-secret' thing here. Ron, this is serious. You're just turning 19, which is definitely old enough to make smart decisions, and this was not a smart decision on your part."

He stayed quiet, keeping his eyes on the stone floor. She was right, and he knew it. But there really wasn't anything he could say either way.

"'Mione, look. It's not going to happen again. If you still want to tell McGonagall, that's your responsibility but you have the power not to, too. I just was having a hard time after you left me, and she kind of came onto me. I'm leaving her. That's all I can say."

Hermione looked up at him, tears in her eyes again. She hadn't spoken in a few minutes, and Ron didn't know what to think. He hoped, however, that his dear friend would let him off the hook and that he'd finally be able to enjoy some peace. Ron, however, wasn't completely truthful. As soon as he left the room with Hermione, he set off down the halls to find Professor Rowe and attempt to talk some sense into her. He finally ran into her in a deserted corridor on the seventh floor. They didn't do much talking, after all.

* * *

Two weeks later, Heather approached Neville in the Great Hall. It was just after classes for the day, and she had something important to say.

"Okay."

"Heather, okay what?"

"It's okay. I forgive you. I may have overreacted a bit. But it's okay. I want us to go back to normal - I like you, and you obviously like me. Let's see where that goes."

A warm feeling spread throughout Neville, and he was tempted to grab her once again and snog her like there was no tomorrow. Instead, he grabbed her hand and they walked outside, enjoying the first warm afternoon of the season hidden beneath a rather large tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

The afternoons, however, would not stay warm for very long. In fact, the very next day, Hermione felt a chill spread throughout her as if she'd been locked outside in a blizzard with no coat. Despite hiding behind Draco's shoulder for most of the day, she could feel the eyes piercing her skin like needles from all directions, trying to figure them out or break them apart. He'd insisted that the easiest way to come out to the rest of the school about their being together was to simply be together outside of their quarters, but Hermione was beginning to regret this plan - Draco was not reliquishing his grip on her hand and further insisted on greeting each person they passed in the halls with direct eye contact and a smile. Who did that? Right. _Draco on a mission to convince Hogwarts that the two of them together wasn't such an absurd idea. _

Except the more that she thought about it, the two of them together sort of was an absurd idea. She'd known it anyway, but now it was especially true - a former Death Eater, the Slytherin Prince-of-Evil himself, and Hermione herself - Member of the Golden Trio, No-Nonsense Queen, and Bookworm extraordinaire. Right. Of course they were bound to make more of a stir than Pansy and Harry - Hermione herself was so fiercely Gryffindor that standing next to her emerald-clad, Slytherin counterpart was madness.

They rounded the corner into the Great Hall and it seemed as if the world around them was put on mute. Conversation didn't slow, or dim, it ceased to exist entirely - even the Staff table seemed to raise their brows, and they knew what was going on anyway. Every table in the hall had entire houses of students with gaping mouths and ends of sentences on their tongues - the conversations about classes and gossip about their friends had fallen flat, and every eye was on the pair in the doorway.

Rumors had been spread all morning since they'd stepped out of their quarters - had the two been together for long? Had they been seeing each other in secret before the war? Had one of them been a spy for the other side? And hadn't Draco been, you know, evil? That one, however, was the only one that was true - Draco admitted it with an eerie grin that scared the thirteen year old inside her half to death. He sat them down at a small table on the side that he'd just charmed away from the Hufflepuff table, shooting it against the back wall of the Great Hall as the plates on their little section filled. Eyes followed the pair as Draco nearly dragged Hermione by the hand to their table, sitting on the same bench as her to keep her from jumping up and bolting from the room.

She wished he'd never suggested it. They could have waited until the end of the year, couldn't they? They'd kept it from themselves for long enough, for goodness sake...

"Are you going to eat anything, or are you just going to sit there?"

"I can't eat left handed."

He stood up, switching sides with her, and grinned. "I can. Now your right hand is free. Go."

She carefully picked portions of her meal onto her plate, eating quickly after that. Draco, however, was pleased to see her under duress, and took his time with a bit of sausage on the end of his fork.

"It's a bit cold, don't you think?" His question echoed in the hall - those who found enough courage to speak again did so in the lowest whispers possible, while the rest remained silent, observing the pair and eating quickly.

"It's freezing. Can we talk about something else?"

"How about, hmm, everyone staring at us?" He straightened up and rotated his head, and suddenly wherever his vision fell, conversation resumed - but not without stolen glances, and it wasn't as if half of the conversations weren't about the two of them anyway.

Just before they finished, a group of older Slytherins stood, walking past and glaring at Hermione as they started to leave. She swore she heard 'Mudblood' somewhere amongst their mutterings. Draco, however, sighed, looking them each in the eye.

"Bridget, Peter, Rachel, Roy. Come here." Hermione recognized the four as a group of Slytherins a year younger than them, all having been members of the Dueling Club.

They bowed their heads, knowing that his barked tone meant something bad.

"Fifteen points from Slytherin, each of you. And an extra ten for whoever dared use such a term against my girlfriend, or against anyone for that matter."

"Draco, that's seventy points! And you've said the word yourself!"

"I can do the math, Roy, and what I've done in the past has nothing to do with the present." His statement intrigued Hermione. He'd changed, but would he really relinquish ALL of his old alliances?

"And from your own house!"

"I belong to no house. I am Head Boy, and as such, I am fair to all houses. Do you not think I'll take points from my old house? Five more for the backtalk. Leave. Now." _Yes. He would._

Hermione looked to the head table, and she could have sworn she saw Headmistress McGonagall smirking from over her toast and eggs.

* * *

Pansy sat beside Harry in a windowed alcove near the DADA classroom. They'd been quietly observing the news of Draco and Hermione, and hadn't found the response to be funny. In fact, it was only re-growing old house rivalry, and making people look at Pansy as well. Needless to say, she wasn't pleased.

"I just wish they'd stop staring."

"They got over it, you know?" Harry shook his head. "And now they're right back again."

"And of course it has nothing to do with the disaster in the Great Hall yesterday."

"Of course not. You think people would calm down after a day, but no. I heard they caught a younger Gryffindor girl out of bed last night and she started yelling at Hermione for being a traitor."

"What did she do?"

"Well, knowing Hermione well it was no surprise. But naturally, she took points from the girl and supposedly gave her a tongue lashing to last a lifetime."

"Ouch. Ten points for Head Girl."

"Exactly."

She stuck her tongue out at a Ravenclaw boy who'd stared at her a bit too long and Harry laughed. "If the rest of the school doesn't get over the rivalry soon, McGonagall is going to have to do something about it."

"And perhaps she will." Pansy pointed behind Harry to a portrait in which an ancient looking man looked very curiously at the two of them and then stalked off out of his frame. "That's a portrait of..."

"Armando Dippet. His portrait's in the Headmaster's office as well."

"Headmistress."

"Right."

* * *

"Luna, you're not going to believe this."

"Oliver?"

"Come on, I know a place we can talk. Hurry! You'll love this... there's just been a meeting of all the Hogwarts staff, over the warring houses."

"I did notice a little tension."

"A little? Luna, Slytherin and Gryffindor have been... never mind." _Leave it to Luna to not notice students practically cursing each other in the hallways. _"As I was saying, there was a meeting. There's been a lot of tension, really, and the Headmistress has come up with a sort of plan to relieve it all."

"Is she releasing Bragglers into the air? I believe I remember my father saying something about them once, they counter the effects of Wrackspurts, very helpful creatures..."

"Brag-what? No. Not those. Luna, she's going to start a sort of competition."

"Of what kind?"

"Originally, she thought by house - but that would just escalate things, wouldn't it? So she's mixing up people from every house and year, and there will be tasks - like a really simplified Triwizard Tournament."

"More competition?"

"But friendly competition - like the Quidditch World Cup, or..."

"I see. Well, this is news. When does she plan on announcing this?"

"Tonight at dinner - and she knows it's not going to go over well, but she's hoping it can be just big enough to get people back into the fun of things, without being too big to distract from school work or anything."

Luna stood on her toes to kiss Oliver's nose. "I look forward to it. Do you have any idea who's on what team?"

"None yet - it might be entirely random. There's going to be a staff member or two for every team. I hope I'm with you, but of course that's unlikely..."

"Of course. But if we were on a team together, I know a way we could celebrate..." Luna stood on her toes to whisper into Olivers ear, and his face flushed at a few of her suggestions. _Oh._

* * *

Draco pulled a piece of the bench apart again, charming it to slide slightly farther from the wall. He'd done it every day that Hermione had asked him to, which had been every day since they'd left the common room together. She'd come back after classes nearly in tears some days, with the taunting and digging questions getting to be more and more troublesome as time went on. Draco, however, knew that things were about to change. McGonagall had let him sit in the corner of a staff meeting under a Disillusionment charm, and she should be making an important announcement right about...

"Students, may I have your attention please." _Now. _"As you may have been able to tell, a few relationships between houses has greated a great deal of house rivalry - it has caused great distress between myself and the staff, and between fellow students that you all call friends. The time has come to stop this nonsense - I have asked students I know are personally related to bullying to cease, and it seems that only more of you will follow in their paths. Because of this, I have an announcement to make, and I'm not sure if you're going to love it or hate it. First and foremost, I'd like to promote a little friendly competition - your education for the rest of the year at Hogwarts will be supplemented by a bit of good-natured frivolity, you'll be teamed up and teams will compete for special rewards, extra privileges, and possibly prizes."

The buzz was immediate - a competition? Privileges? Prizes? But McGonagall quieted them once more. "However - your teams will not be your houses. Your team lists are being formulated as we speak, and by the end of the meal will be posted in various places around the school - the closest, in case you were wondering, being just outside the doors into this very hall. A first meeting with your team will take place some time this week, look for notes from your team leader - a professor - and do not be late. And please, try to enjoy this - I promise you, it'll work out well in the end..."

This time the buzz was not a buzz, but a roar - every student in the hall was spouting their ideas, their suspicions, and even beside himself Draco felt Hermione snap her head around towards him.

"Did you know about this?"

"Something like it."

"Why didn't you tell me! It would have been so much easier over the next week to just be able to know that houses were going to get all mixed up anyway... not completely, but for something that surely the students will focus on more than their classwork. Do you know anything about teams?"

"Not a bit. I know, however, that you and I will be on those lists, and not the same lists. McGonagall made sure to mention that to me. I guess we're all part of the fun and games."

"I don't know if I should look forward to it or dread it. Hogwarts has never done anything like this, where did Professor McGonagall think of something so absurd?"

"'Mione, calm down. It's fine. It's just a few games. It's nothing serious."

Hermione rolled her eyes, setting down her fork. "Draco, you know as well as I do that this could either be a good bonding experience for everyone or a complete and total disaster. Now, I'm using my Head Student privileges to roam the halls while I'm supposed to be at dinner, and I'm checking that list and coming right back down. If anyone asks, I've gone to the bathroom. Understood?"

"I do like when you boss me around, I think..."

"Draco!"

"Yes, dear."

* * *

Harry stared at the list in front of him - this couldn't be good. There were only ten minutes until the first meeting, and Harry wasn't sure this could be a good thing.

First off, Goyle and another Slytherin friend of his were paired with Ron and Neville - a match sure to cause a little heat. Oliver and Rowe were the Professors in charge of that team, hopefully they knew what they was in for. Harry himself was paired with Draco, who was... neutral, really. They were with Slughorn. Hermione was with Pansy and Blaise, which might end up being good for all of them, and they were with McGongall - who wouldn't take nonsense from anyone. Luna was on a team with Ginny and Dean, and he wasn't sure how he felt about Ginny and Dean in such close contact... but was it really something to bother him? Perhaps not. But they were also with Bulstrode and Nott, which made for another team fueled by old war feelings. Was this really such a good idea?

Hermione came up behind him, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Harry, I'm not sure about this."

"I'm not either. It could go really well or really, really bad."

"I'm betting on the latter. Slytherins and Gryffindors? Working together towards anything?"

Harry suddenly laughed, turning towards her. "Hermione. As I'm sure we know, Slytherins and Gryffindors can get along alright under the right circumstances. These might be those circumstances."

She shrugged, leaving him alone outside the Great Hall again. Was he the only one this interested in the teams? Or had everyone else rushed out, trying to find the lists in common rooms and outside of classrooms? Pansy was next to find him, snaking her arms around his waist and reaching up on her toes to read over his shoulder. "I'm with Hermione and Blaise? Shouldn't be too bad, I suppose. But ugh, we've got Bridget and Roy as well. Did you see what Malfoy did at Dinner that night?"

"Yeah, I'm not looking forward to hearing about that reunion."

"I'm not looking forward to watching it. But Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine - and on top of that, I can essentially get Blaise to do whatever I want him to do. We've got Hermione."

He tilted his head to the side, touched by her offering to watch out and keep Hermione from being bullied. "Thanks, Pansy. But I'm sure you'll find out soon, when she doesn't have Draco to hide behind, Hermione is going to be able to take care of herself well on her own."

"I hope so. The younger Slytherins... it's different for them. They still hold prejudice, where my year normally would. They don't... they don't understand just how big the war was, I think. They were under the assumption, most of them, that if the Dark Lord won, they'd have it easy."

Harry hadn't really thought of that before - the Purebloods that had been for Voldemort would have thought that had Voldemort won, they'd have power, and privileges, and they'd have it easy at school and such. Even the halfbloods would have had it decent, at the least. But muggleborns, they'd have likely all been killed, or worse...

"Now that I think of it, Pansy, watch out for Hermione. She might hex anyone within a mile if Draco doesn't sort her out."

Pansy laughed and pulled Harry away from the list by the hand, thinking they might get a minute or two alone before they had to head to their meetings.


	18. Early April

**AN: OMG you guys. Sorry for not updating in forever. A little OOC bit, you'll definitely see it, but it needs to happen to keep the story going. Enjoy.**

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* * *

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Harry was finding himself worried more and more about the end of term - of course, for him, the Eighth Year had come as a welcome way to figure out what he wanted to do. But as the months passed, he had less and less of a concrete idea. He could still be an Auror - but what use was there, hunting down decrepit old Death Eaters with no common goal? He could teach - he was sure McGonagall would welcome him as a Professor. But was that really what he wanted to do? The ideas passed in and out of his head almost as quickly as did news about the competition - one Minerva had aptly named the End of Year Tournament. Students were whispering about it in the dormitories, between classes, _during _classes. It was almost as talked about as the Triwizard Tournament had been in his fourth year. The teams were posted, and most were fine - except for the obvious bad pairings. The first meeting hadn't gone too horribly. He'd heard that Neville and Ron had pulled wands on Goyle and Davis, and that everything had gone just peachy on Luna, Ginny, and Dean's team.

His own hadn't gone so terribly, though. Draco sat beside him in a crowded classroom, which was strange enough even under all the different circumstances, and even made a point of cracking a few jokes _not _directed at Harry. It was surreal, to say the least. Slughorn prattled on about the events, about the rules and the way things would work, and about the rewards on the end - extra credit points on their end of the year exams, recognition at the end of the year feast, and free treats on the Hogwarts Express on the way home. Plus - their names on a plague in the Entrance Hall. A permanent spot at Hogwarts - that was, perhaps, the most prestigious award most of them could think of - though it didn't stop the first and second years from arguing about how much candy they could each eat on the way home.

* * *

"So let me get this straight. One more time. You want me to forgive you - even though I have all the power in the world to report both you and Professor Rowe - because you've treated me like dirt for trying to look out for you? And yes, admittedly Ronald, it's not really my place to be judging you for who you choose to associate with in what ways - but you knew from the beginning that I was only looking out for you!"

"And I messed up! I thought you were criticizing me, judging me. I didn't realize you were just watching out for me, Hermione! I'm sorry. I really am."

Ron looked up at her from across the hallway - he'd pulled her away from Draco on the way to a class and told her that avoiding him for two weeks was silly - they needed to talk. She shook her head.

"Sorry isn't what I'm looking for - you have nothing to apologize to me for. We weren't together when you began... seeing her. I left you. You have nothing to apologize for - but being caught... doing whatever it was you were doing, by _Draco_, in an open hallway! That's ridiculous! At least have the decency to try and hide it, to keep it behind closed doors."

"I messed up. That I apologize for. I just... please, Hermione. You'd get her and I both kicked out of Hogwarts, likely for good. I treated you worse than dirt, I apologize for that. And for not listening to you."

"I accept that apology - but what do you mean by not listening to me? The only thing I ever suggested you do was stop seeing her... and you did that, didn't you?"

Ron stayed stone silent, and the realization that dawned on Hermione had her seeing red.

"Ronald Weasley. I suggest you remove yourself from my presence at this very moment. Not only have you come to me on foolish terms, you have also expressly broken the rules and endangered yourself and your... lover. I gave you fair warning. Draco did as well - that's warning from both Heads. You can't say you didn't see this coming. Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor, and I'll be reporting this to Headmistress McGonagall first thing after classes."

"Hermione, I..."

"Leave. Now."

It was her calm, even tone that hit him the hardest - he knew for a fact that Hermione only used that tone when she was murderously angry. This time, it was at him.

* * *

"The first events start tomorrow, you know."

"I'm aware." Hermione was wide awake at two in the morning, concentrating fully on a paper due the next day. Events in a competition were not as important as schoolwork - no matter how many extra credit points she could get on final exams. Draco didn't seem to understand that - he was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, emerald silk sleep pants hanging low around his waist - and no shirt. Since their first kiss, the subsequent snogs, and their coming out to the rest of the school in a relationship - Draco had been going shirtless a lot in their shared common room. If there was one thing that got close to distracting her from schoolwork, it was this.

"You should probably get some sleep. As Head Girl, it won't look good if you aren't involved in the... whatever it is."

Hermione had been allowed a small bit of information that it involved flying - something she wasn't comfortable with - and knew she would be bowing out of that event. She explained this to Draco, who shook his head.

"I'll get you up on that broomstick if I have to force you."

"You won't. I'm terrified of flying. I hate it."

"You won't."

"This is one thing you can't convince me of. I'm terrified of heights."

"Doesn't mean I won't try." The grin on his face convinced her of that - if there was one thing that was still true of Draco, he was persistent.

"Also, Hermione - when you have a free class period, let me know. There's something I want to talk to the Headmistress about. Head student business."

"I won't have one for a few days, at least. I've been flooded with make up work. Perhaps Thursday?"

"Thursday it is." His attitude turned somber - Hermione couldn't pretend to miss that one.

* * *

"I don't know if I can do this anymore - publically."

"What are you talking about, Luna? We're already public."

"But it's... I can't. Do you know what other people are saying about me now? Before, it was just about me being me - it's different now. They talk about me like I'm... like I am a bad person, for being with a teacher."

"And you think they don't say the same things about me?"

"I don't know."

"They do. You don't know that I get flack for being with a student? That's even worse than your way. McGonagall still doesn't completely approve, the rest of the staff is divided completely on the issue. My mother seems to be the only one who approves."

"Then why are we here? If nobody actually approves of our relationship, if it's such a wrong shock to everyone around us, what are we doing?"

"I thought we'd outlined that, Luna. We have feelings for each other. And since when does it matter what other people think? It's like you've said - people have always talked about you. I admired those quirks, I love them. You always seemed to be fine with it. But what's the difference now?"

"The difference now is that it makes me uncomfortable, Oliver. I can't concentrate in classes. My friends don't know what to say about it. It's a situation that can't be remedied until I'm done here at Hogwarts. Depending on my testing, I could be here another year."

Oliver had forgotten that - McGonagall had left a detailed note to each teacher expressing her newest plan. For those that this should be their last year, they would have to test - if they did very well, they would be allowed to Graduate. If they did not, they would have to return, as the year above them had. Oliver had never planned on Luna not testing wel, but her exam scores weren't the best in class, either. She could be here another year. And if she was already uncomfortable with people talking just in the beginning of their relationship, he couldn't imagine what might be going through her head when things might get physical more often...

"Then what, Luna? What do you expect me to do. I really... I have real feelings for you. They aren't going away. You can either let other people get in the way and you can leave me - or you can ignore them all and be with me. I can't make your decision for you. What's it going to be?"

Luna turned around in place. Once, twice, three times. He couldn't figure out exactly why, but she turned to him. "I want to stay, Oliver. I want to... be with you. I know it's going to be difficult. But I think I can try. But you have to promise me... if I can't take it. That we can walk away, and maybe try this again when I'm older - perhaps I'll come teach here, too."

He wasn't sure if what she'd said was good or bad - he took it as good. Why not? "Thank you, Luna. And I will. For now, I think we still have a good solid hour to ourselves. What do you propose we should do?"

* * *

He received the letter in the middle of Charms - he was to report to McGonagalls office immediately. It was Professor Rowe's off period. He couldn't ignore the coincidence. Hermione had told. He excused himself, gathering his things quickly. If now was the time to get in trouble, he was going to get to it and get over it immediately. Whatever would happen, he would deal with. Mostly, he was a little frightened - would he be expelled? Would Professor Rowe lose her job? But on top of that, he also felt a myriad of other things - shame at having been caught with someone, betrayal from Hermione's tattling on him to the headmistress, nausea, and nervousness at having to confront Harry again (who hadn't liked it the first time) - and he wasn't looking forward to this meeting.

The halls were nearly silent - a student or two on the way to the Hospital Wing, retrieving something from their dormitory, or heading to the Library during their off period. But Ron didn't mind the quiet for once, it didn't bother him. It gave him time to think. Of course he wouldn't blame it entirely on Rowe - but if he were given the opportunity, he would tell them he'd tried to quit. That was all.

When he reached the top of the staircase and pushed open the door, he was shocked. Inside of course was the Headmistress and Rowe - but also Draco. Not Hermione. She hadn't told.

"Ron, please take a seat. I'm only going to say this once, and quick. Professor Rowe's position has been terminated - you have both violated the school's policies on student-staff relations by making things physical. As blame is to be placed on the staff member - and Professor Rowe took nearly full responsibility - there are grounds for immediate termination." McGonagall nodded to Ms. Rowe, who left immediately and in tears. She said nothing to Ron, but Ron knew enough by what had been said - Rowe took the blame.

"However, it takes two to tango. If it were any other case, you would be immediately expelled. However, it is only two months until your graduation, and I feel your efforts and losses in the war were great enough punishment for you. You are staying at Hogwarts, Ron, but only just barely. I advise that you keep your mouth shut. Secondly, I'd like you to in no way compare your situation to Professor Wood's and Luna's - their relationship is something special, they've been open about it since nearly the beginning and are not openly public or sexual as you were. Speaking out about them now will only cause yourself more trouble, do you understand?"

Ron nodded again. He could barely look up. He was saved - but by her tone, this was obviously not enough.

"You will serve detentions with Mr. Malfoy as long as he feels necessary. As he came to me with the desired information and not Hermione - thought I am well aware that your old friend knows and did try to stop you - it is his punishment to dole out, no more than twice a week."

Ron nodded again.

"Now, Draco - you'll need to report to me on these detentions before and after they happen, within a few hours. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, Headmistress. I only have one question?"

"And what is that?"

"Who will be teaching Transfiguration? Are you going back to it?"

"Sadly, no. A Headmaster or mistress cannot also hold a teaching position. As it is much too late to hire a replacement, I need to find a worth temporary professor. I have a certain young woman in mind - I'm sure the both of you know who I'm talking about?"

Ron and Draco glanced at each other. There was no way...

"Ms. Granger will have the opportunity to carry on with her classes if she so desires. Testing will be held instead by a ministry official. Hermione is the only student of age that holds the necessary testing scores for this to be allowed - it has only happened twice before in Hogwarts history. Would either of you like to break the news, or should I?"

Neither of the men spoke - this was out of their hands.

"Draco, unfortunately I must ask the favor of you - of telling Hermione. She is, as of now, the only suitable replacement for a temporary professor."

Ron looked up again. If he didn't watch where he sat, he was likely to fail Transfiguration, or worse - anger it's new Professor Granger.

* * *

"You're very funny, Draco, but I need to concentrate."

"Trust me, Hermione - I'm not joking. Ron wishes I was. McGonagall sent me with this."

He handed her a single sheet of parchment. McGonagall had sent it to him the morning after the confrontation, and Draco was to give it to her if she didn't believe him. She opened it hastily, drinking in the few sentences on the paper.

_Professor Granger, _

_Unfortunately, Ms Granger, he's not lying. Draco came to me on the subject of Professor Rowe and Ron Weasley - Rowe has been terminated. It is much too short notice to hire a replacement, and you are the only person around with the necessary exam scores to be able to become the third emergency Hogwarts professor in History. You will have the opportunity to continue your classes and take your exams if you wish, but as for right now I am putting into action your emergency Professorship. You are at the time of reading this letter, a Professor here at Hogwarts. _

_In addition, a position will be held for you next year if you'd like it - though you may choose to leave it and we will hire another, your employment here will be continual if you wish. Your first lesson will start Monday, until then an announcement will be made about classes being held until Monday. Your professorship will also be announced. Unfortunately dear, in your Head Student contract you agreed to perform all necessary duties for the school while elected Head Girl. You will still hold this position in addition to your Professorship, but you have no choice in the matter. If you wish, you may come speak to me tonight after the announcement at Dinner. I have lesson plans, if you might want them. Best wishes to you. _

_Minerva McGonagall,  
Headmistress_

Hermione dropped the letter at her feet, apparently stunned. Draco took a step back. He knew the next yell was going to break his ear drums...

"I can't believe it! She's nearly tricked me into it, with the Head Student contract bit! How could you let her do this?"

"It's not something I could have controlled. It's an emergency, Hermione. Students need a transfiguration professor - they need the class for exams, for their professions - what were you going to be when you got out of Hogwarts?"

Hermione blinked. "I had no idea. Possibly a Healer."

"Healers need excellent scores and grades in Transfiguration. So do Aurors. I wanted to be a Professor - very important to me. I need it too. Hermione, if you don't do this, nobody will be able to get jobs after Hogwarts. That's why you have to."

She nodded. "I suppose I did. But hold on, did you say you wanted to be a Professor?"

Draco felt the color rise to his cheeks. "I did. I just figured... a professor helped me so much, to change who I am. I want to be able to do that one day, you know... to help students. People. You know."

He half expected her to roll her eyes or say something to embarrass him. Instead, she gathered her papers in front of her and walked right up to him, raising up on her toes. She pressed her lips to his, kissing him fully before pulling back slightly to whisper in his ear.

"I am so proud of the man you've become." Only then did she walk past him, quietly shutting herself in her dormitory. It was only six now, she'd be out for dinner soon, but he figured she had lessons to plan or something. Professor Granger. Draco realized in that moment that he was proud of her, too - and that no statement ever made would mean as much to him as the one she'd just said.


	19. Late April

**AN: It only takes me so long to update this fic because it has so many different storylines. Yikes! I know it's been a month. Please don't shoot me. Hehe. There are about five chapters left, perhaps six (this one is Late April, the next two are for May, the next two for June and possibly an extra for an Epilogue/Commencement ceremony. I think that might tie in nicely.) And I'll be updating as quickly as possible. I love this fic, it's one that I've been working on longest, but it's also one of my toughest to write for that reason and because there's just SO much going on. Hopefully done within the course of two months. In the mean time, or after you've finished this, check out my other fics - I'm posting first chapters to a few new fics to see if people like them, and (this fic being the exception, as I've already told you I'm updating soon) those that get the most updates, get updated quickest. Don't most people do that? Hmm. Anyway, enjoy!**

Draco, along with 29 other NEWT level Transfiguration students, anxiously awaited the arrival of their newest Professor. The days proceeding her first class were that of whispers, confusion, and dulled down madness - how on earth was already-frantic Hermione Granger supposed to be their professor? Wasn't she already taking the maximum number of classes? Was she perhaps using a time turner, one that had been salvaged? Before their thirst for answers could be quenched and their minds could wander too far, the heavy wooden door was pushed open by a girl of no more than five-foot-four. Hermione nearly needed to push into it with her entire shoulder to make it open. She stepped through quietly, arranging her few books and papers on the desk for a moment before sweeping her eyes around the classroom. For only a moment, Draco saw a flash of fear in her eyes. He turned to his left to see Potter, who was looking back at him. The two exchanged a shrug. _Here goes nothing. Or everything. _

"Students, if you could please open your books to page three hundred and four. I am your new Transfiguration professor, until at least the end of term. You may call me Professor, or Professor Granger if you wish - but please, just keep calling me Hermione." She smiled and rolled her eyes a little at Draco, as if to say that at least under this strange new stress, she could rely on being called by her first name. She began reading a section aloud, simultaneously watching for raised hands and also flicking her wand at a small rubber ball on the table - one which she was apparently turning into a miniature spinning model of the Earth.

Since Draco had given her the letter, things had only gotten crazier - she'd met with the Headmistress, talked over her new position, and accepted it with more grace than either of them expected. She accepted McGonagalls old lesson plans, tweaking them slightly to fit her own feelings on the subject, and continued to lock herself in her Head Student dorm for hours a night, doing who-knew-what until ungodly hours of the morning. She'd come out for an hour or two, wordlessly curl into Draco's side, and nap for a bit before going back to work. He never challenged it, never asked any questions - from what he'd learned about Hermione in the past months, he knew she needed to do this entirely alone. She now stood on a box - one that she'd asked him to craft for her while she wrote lessons - to help the rest of the class be able to see her. Rowe had been tall, statuesque even. Hermione was childlike almost, in comparison. Up on the box though - he'd make fun of her for that later - she was perfectly visible, and seemingly perfectly comfortable. In just under a minute, she had a spinning, beach-ball sized model of the earth. The challenge here was not in the colors, the shapes - but in making the oceans and landscape as well. She demonstrated by reaching her hand into the ocean, showing the class that her hand was actually wet. The class took out their wands and waited for the smaller rubber balls to come towards them. Draco caught Hermione's eye and she smiled, if only briefly.

_She can do it, _he thought. _I know she can. _

* * *

"The pictures finally came out. Took a while to get them all, but I think that's the last of them."

Dean stood on Harry's right, a stack of prints in his hands. Harry had asked for snapshots of the first event of the games - and had gotten more than he'd asked for.

"Thanks, Dean."

"No problems - no need to thank me. You kind of saved the arse of the entire wizarding world last year. Least I could do."

Harry smiled, taking the stack of paper that was offered to him. There were shots of first years on brooms with fifth years, chasing after various objects in the space of the Quidditch pitch. Winged keys that were awfully familiar to Harry flew past the cameraman just before Ginny did, a terrified looking third year Hufflepuff boy sharing her broom and holding her waist tightly. That had been the catch - you'd been on a pair on the broom, a young student and an old one, so that the older ones couldn't do all the work. Harry had essentially taught a first year Ravenclaw girl to fly a broom - he'd let her do most of the work, as she'd been nearly scared half to death at the idea of being dragged around by Harry. She'd had fun, at the end - as Harry could clearly see by a smiling picture of the two of them together, holding the last key their team needed to win. Perhaps he'd done a little more work than he let on - he wasn't going to let his Seeker skills go entirely to waste.

Dean seemed eager to say something, as he sat beside Harry wringing his hands. Harry couldn't ignore it much longer. He hadn't wanted to ask Dean at all, but as his closest acquaintance with a good camera, he figured it had been time to mend things up. Now, it was time to sew the ends completely shut - there was no doubt in Harry's mind that Dean was here to talk about Ginny.

"Harry, can I talk to you about... about Ginny for a second? She's not herself lately."

"How so?"

"I know... why you broke up. And what she was doing. I didn't... after the two of you broke up, I saw no reason to stop. But a month or so ago... she's become very distant, Harry, and very strange. She won't talk to myself or Seamus anymore. We spoke to a younger bloke she was seeing - she avoids him now. She's rarely outside of her dormitory. She doesn't eat. She isn't doing her schoolwork. I just figured, you've known her for so long. You might know what to do."

Harry sighed. "I may have known her for a long time, but I don't know her as well as Ron, still. Ask him. Ginny chose to cut me out of her life - she can't do that to family. Try Ron."

Dean nodded almost inperceptibly, and rose to leave Harry with his prints. There were a few more in the stack that he'd found himself smiling at, eager to clear his head of Dean's talk. There was one of himself and Pansy, smiling, their hands held together for all to see. There was one of Hermione and Draco, in an embrace after she nearly got sick after dismounting her broom, and between their tender hug was Hermione's scowl, and Draco's loud laughter. They really went alright together, now that he'd looked. There was one of a group of younger students of all houses chasing each other around on brooms. The last one in the stack was the one Harry was looking for most eagerly. It was a picture that Dean had insisted on taking, the last of the day. He'd rounded up Hermione and Ron, and shoved them in next to Harry, who had stood in the middle. For a moment there was awkward standing, then Harry threw his arms around his dearest friends shoulders. Within a moment, they fell in too, smiling and coming together for the picture. The final product was that of three best friends, leaning into each other and smiling. As the photograph moved, Harry turned to each of his friends and whispered the same thing -

_Regardless of what's happened this year - you're my best friends. Nothing will ever change that. _

He assumed the width of their smiles was related to that, somehow.

* * *

"Oliver, I've thought about it."

He whipped around to see Luna standing in his doorway. They'd been silent recently on the subject of Luna's apprehensions. She was apparently speaking of them again.

"And?"

"You know I have feelings for you... that's why I'm saying this now. I'm not sure if it's wrackspurts, or.. I don't know what. But I think it's best that we hold off on this until I'm out of school."

By _this_, he was assuming she meant their relationship - the fact that she was holding flowers he'd given her not more than five minutes ago, that she was wearing a simple leather bracelet he'd made for her, that they perhaps loved each other. He nodded.

"I wish I could change your mind - but this is a responsible thing to do. I've known for a little while that it was making you uncomfortable. McGonagall noticed as well. But Luna... I ask only one thing. Promise me you'll wait for me. That you'll get out of school either this year or next, and we can start right where we've left off."

"You have to promise me as well. That you'll wait for me. You're older, Oliver - and attractive. I'm sure many a witch has admired you. If I wait for you, you wait for me."

He closed the distance between them, unsure if he'd be able to hold her in such an embrace for many months. He kissed her just once, breathed in that wonderful scent in her hair one more time, and relaxed against her. He spoke more softly this time, meant for only her to hear, though they were alone.

"For you, I'd wait forever."

* * *

Pansy sat between Goyle and Zabini in the Slytherin common rooms, waiting on the moment she'd be leaving to meet Harry. He'd told her he made plans for the both of them, but wouldn't tell her what they entailed. He hadn't told her where exactly to go to meet him, what they'd be doing, or how long she might be gone. It was almost annoying - she hated surprises - but she couldn't hold it against him - and wouldn't, much longer. A third year boy walked up to her, handed her a letter, and walked away. She recognized the scrawl on the front immediately as Harry's, and retired to her dormitory to find that she was supposed to meet him in the Entrance Hall at eight sharp, and to wear a coat. It was cold outside - whatever it was must be out of doors. She did as instructed, arriving five minutes early to be sure. When Harry hadn't shown after fifteen minutes she began to feel discouraged. It was unlike him to not show up. She waited only a moment more before the same boy from earlier approached her.

"Harry sent me for you. He wants to apologize for making you wait. Follow me." He said nothing more, and Pansy followed the boy on a rather odd course through the castle, to a staircase she'd never even seen before. It appeared longer than any in the castle, and narrow too. The boy pointed up it.

"He's waiting through that door." He left.

What on earth was going on? This was unlike Harry entirely. He must have something going on, or...

She reached the top of the stairs, opening the tall, thin door to the outside. She found herself on a rooftop, likely of a part of the castle that only went up to the third floor. It was horribly dark outside, except for the glow of three candles on a blanket, just on the other side. At that moment, Harry rushed out from behind a corner, a large basket in his hands. He seemed shocked to see her, but smiled.

"You're here already. Hi."

She could see things poking out from the basket - breads and cheese, meats, little pies, what appeared to be a bottle of mead. He must have been setting this up all day. He led her by the hand to his little setup, overlooking the lake and bits of the forest. He was babbling on about planning something nice for the two of them before she captured his lips. He'd said he wanted to give her a night to remember - perhaps she'd give him a night to remember, too. Nobody had ever done anything this nice for her.

* * *

"They've stopped staring."

"I noticed. It took a month." Hermione barely looked up from her notes as she said it, a rather annoyed look on her face. She'd been sitting at a desk in their common room all afternoon, reading things over and making up lesson plans. It was the end of her second full week as emergency Transfiguration professor.

"Are they paying you for that?"

"Yes. I didn't realize professors made so much money, either. Apparently, very few wizards have the scores high enough to do so."

"Are you going to stop working at all tonight?"

She looked up at him then and sighed, putting her things in a new bin on her desk. "Yes. I suppose I've been at it a while, I'm sorry for making you wait."

Ah. So she had noticed he'd been waiting. She rose from her chair and joined him on the couch, sinking in beside him. "I did notice they'd stopped staring. I've just been so busy with this professorship, I can't begin to really dwell on it. Have people stopped talking?"

"About us, or about your atrocious screaming during the broom challenge?"

"I'll retire to my room at any time..."

"Hermione, I'm joking. Ha-ha, you know? Though it was rather funny..."

"Draco! It was not. I was terribly frightened."

"And hadn't I told you, if necessary, I'd save you and sacrifice a win for my team?"

"And yet you didn't have to save me, and it was Harry who really won it for you..."

His eyes narrowed and she laughed.

"Touche, Granger. Golden boy played his part, as usual. I do seem to remember a certain Gryffindor in front of me being quite flustered when she got off her broom... like the feeling of a pole that size between your legs? I can help with that."

She gaped, smacking him on the arm. "Draco! You're... oh, I can't even think of anything to say back to that."

"Only because you know it's true."

"I'd rather not talk about these things with you!"

"I am your boyfriend, Granger - yes, I am. We're supposed to talk and joke about these things."

"And eventually we're supposed to do them - I can't even fathom the idea of getting _that_ close to you, Malfoy."

"I can't fathom the idea of getting that close to anyone."

She had been picking up a book, which she promptly dropped. "Are you saying..."

"That I'm a... yes. I am."

"Say it."

"Don't make me do it, Hermione, please. I'm only telling you because you need to know anyway."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Fine! I'm a virgin. Pleased?"

"Properly. I am too, though I'm sure that doesn't come as much of a surprise."

"I always thought you would have by now, actually. If not with Ron, at least with Harry."

"With _Harry? _Gods, no. Though I supposed I'd have been more willing than with Ron..."

The pair laughed, and the conversaton to continue. To which lengths, dear reader, you'll find out soon enough.

* * *

The second Challenge was due to begin in twenty minutes. It required every member on every team - and yet a few seemed to be missing. It was a group that was easy to spot missing, in fact - Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson. Where they were and when they'd show up was a mystery to anyone. And what the drama of that disappearance would later cause, was even more mind boggling than anyone could have guessed. Whispers were flying - what on earth could they be doing? Staff and prefects set off through the castle, and returned shortly, minus one from the group.

Ron Weasley was said to be in the Hospital Wing, recovering from a number of mild hexes being thrown at him within the course of a few moments. Harry and Pansy gave minimal effort to setting up for the challenge, instead charming whispered secrets to each other. Ginny was in tears, being comforted only slightly by Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, all three of which looked positively sick. Draco seemed to have every intention of continuing on with Hermione as usual - but she seemed infuriated - at herself or at him, they'd soon find out.

* * *

**Sorry to leave with such weird cliffhangers! The next chapter shouldn't take long to be up, I intend on finishing this fic faster than originally stated. The next chapter will reveal more about Hermione and Draco's talk, and exactly what happened behind that little flash forward bit at the end. Drama! Look for an update soon! **


	20. Early May

**AN: I'm doing something a little different with this chapter. Because of the odd cliffhanger/preview I left you with, it's difficult to do it from different perspectives without giving too much away right away. There will be two sections from characters perspectives in the beginning, the story will come out in a big third person fiasco, and then the rest will be as normal, for the rest of this chapter/time period. Cheers, and enjoy! Btw, the next person to favorite me as an author will be my 400th favorite-er, and for that will get a special... something. Perhaps.  
**

* * *

_The second Challenge was due to begin in twenty minutes. It required every member on every team - and yet a few seemed to be missing. It was a group that was easy to spot missing, in fact - Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson. Where they were and when they'd show up was a mystery to anyone. And what the drama of that disappearance would later cause, was even more mind boggling than anyone could have guessed. Whispers were flying - what on earth could they be doing? Staff and prefects set off through the castle, and returned shortly, minus one from the group._

_Ron Weasley was said to be in the Hospital Wing, recovering from a number of mild hexes being thrown at him within the course of a few moments. Harry and Pansy gave minimal effort to setting up for the challenge, instead charming whispered secrets to each other. Ginny was in tears, being comforted only slightly by Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, all three of which looked positively sick. Draco seemed to have every intention of continuing on with Hermione as usual, but she seemed infuriated - at herself or at him, they'd soon find out._

* * *

"Don't knock again."

"Hermione..."

"Draco, don't. Just let me be for a few moments."

He sighed, leaning against the cool stone wall next to the door. She'd locked herself in a broom closet. He'd alohamora'd the thing half to death (with her subsequently locking it again) for nearly fifteen minutes before she'd speak to him. Understandably, she was embarrassed and flustered and didn't want to have to talk about what had just happened to Draco, but the challenge was supposed to start in an hour. And as Head students, they had the duties of helping the Professors set up the challenge - a sort of magical obstacle course, if you will. He knocked again.

"What did I say about knocking?"

"Not to do it."

"And you did?"

"Hermione, I think you forget who you're dealing with. I could hex this door of it's hinges if I really wanted to. Let me in or come out, but you can't hide in there alone forever."

Three minutes passed. She believed he'd left, perhaps, or...

The door cracked open. He saw her peek around the door frame at him, eyes wide.

"Are you coming out?" Before he could realize what she was doing, Hermione grabbed Draco's arm, pulling him into the closet with her. "Watch it, Granger. You're going to kill me!"

"Look, Draco - I don't lose control like that. I just don't. At the worst, I've sent a flock of birds at Ron's head. Nothing like this..."

"But that's not a reason to hole up in this broom closet for the rest of your life. You're going to have to come out eventually." He raised his hand, feeling around in the dark. He finally brushed against clothing and found what he was looking for - her shoulder. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. "I know this is difficult. I know it's... weird. But you can't be a coward."

"Yes I can! Draco, you switched sides after the war, you defected, and you're gaining people's trust back. Me? I'm still looking like a traitor."

"Is that why you attacked Ron?"

"I did nothing of the sort!"

"You did, and you weren't the only one."

There was silence in the closet. And if Draco was correct, Hermione was shooting daggers at him with her eyes. Excellent.

* * *

_Three days previous_

She read the test results, all tried fifteen minutes apart. Seven little blue lines, seven little marks sealing her fate. Ginny couldn't have been any more frightened. Perhaps it was the fact that she was unsure of who to talk to - obviously, she'd have to talk to her parents. Obviously, she'd have to talk to her friends. And lastly, she'd have to talk to the father - if she could figure out who it was.

* * *

_The Morning of the Second Challenge_

"Draco!"

Hermione called after her, dare she say it, boyfriend. They were supposed to have showed up to the pitch fifteen minutes ago to help set up the last bits of the challenge for the Professors, and he hadn't shown up. They'd sent her back into the castle to find him, and she'd found him alright - sitting at the Slytherin table, chatting up an old friend and stuffing his face with sandwiches.

"Yes?"

"Where've you been? We were supposed to be in the fields fifteen minutes ago!"

"I got hungry." He grinned.

"Yes, I understand that. But we have obligations, this is unlike you."

He rolled his eyes, but smiled at her. "Honestly, Granger. Have a little fun. This _is_ the last few months of our last year. I can't possibly go home without having a full meal at least once every time it's offered to me."

"You're sounding like Ron and Harry. Come on!"

He said his goodbyes and stood, snatching her hand and pulling her into the Entrance Hall before she had a chance to say another word. Yes, he'd made it very clear - Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Lioness, was _his. _

"Just a second though, I've got to get my wand from our quarters... I accidentally left it on the way to lunch and have been feeling weird without it."

"I know the feeling. Not having your wand is like..."

"Losing an arm, or something worse." He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she rolled her eyes. He'd been making dirtier and dirtier comments in the past month, and yet they'd never actually brought up the topic - what it might be like if the two of them, god forbid, did the dirty deed. Draco ran in quickly, grabbed his wand, and pulled her after him again. Just before they reached the entrance hall, however, they were stopped by a small Ravenclaw boy who looked absolutely terrified.

"Hermione Granger! Draco Malfoy! Help! There are students fighting on the fourth floor!"

"What in Merlin's name... Hermione?"

"It's best if we both go. The professors would probably prefer it. Excuse me, but how many students are fighting?"

"At least four! Harry Potter and The Weasley girl and her brother Ron and someone named Dean, and there's an Irish guy sitting off on the side looking really sick..."

Hermione felt the color drain from her face. "Harry? Ron? Ginny? But I..."

Draco pulled her arm out again. "No time, Granger."

Within minutes, they'd climbed the stairs and found themselves in the area described to them, and heard shouting.

"You're a lousy liar, Dean, and you know it!"

"Gin, you can't peg this on me! _YOU left ME. _"

"And for good reason, apparently!" That voice belonged to Harry, and if Hermione wasn't mistaken Ron would have a million things to say and...

"That's my baby sister you're talking about! You can't pretend like you're just talking about some girl, some random shag! How could you... "

"She treated me that way, I'll treat her as such!" Dean turned away from the group and towards Hermione and Draco as they rushed up to meet them.

"Hermione, I..." Harry tried speaking, but Hermione held out her hand.

"Shut it, Harry. I don't want excuses. Draco and I have responsibilities and we're being pulled away by... what is this, exactly?"

"An intervention." Ginny looked disgusted, and yet it was her who had makeup running down her face. What on earth had happened? Draco took over after he saw Hermione's face - it was too personal of a battle, for her.

"We're going to need to speak with each of you." He flicked his wand at either end of the passageway, and sent his Patronus to inform the Professors that they were handling a minor problem and would be back in time for the challenge. "Ginevra, you're first. The rest of you, I've put up a boundary charm on either end of this passageway - one that I alone can remove. We'll put up a shield and silencing charm at one end while we talk to each of you."

She nodded, following Hermione and Draco into a shielded, silent area. The rest of the group - Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, and Pansy Parkinson - who, in all reality, looked absolutely bored with the entire situation. Draco glanced at them and saw minor arguments popping up while they thought of what the hell they were going to learn.

"I tried to get Ron to stop it, I swear, he's just being really protective."

"Tell us the story, beginning to end."

"Well, I should start with this." The small redhead pulled at her shirt, bit her lip, and looked away from the pair. "I'm pregnant."

Hermione's mouth formed a large O, she swore she could feel her jaw brush the floor. "Seriously?"

"Yes, Hermione. Seriously. I took seven tests. They're all positive. I ordered muggle ones, since I didn't feel comfortable going to the Hospital Wing about it. We're not really supposed to be doing these sorts of things at all, and it would look terrible if I assumed I was and wasn't. I've been getting sick, and I... I just don't know."

"Well, where did this start then?"

"I told Harry and Ron. I figured I needed to inform them, then my family. Unfortunately, Ron started yelling about it. And Dean overheard before I had a chance to talk to _him_. And..."

"Who's the father?" Hermione looked as if she might faint.

"That's the problem. It's... I'm not entirely sure."

Well, that was enough to shock the pair of Head Students into a still silence. Ginny cleared her throat and continued.

"It's either Dean's or Seamus'. They were... I was seeing them both. At the same time."

"Harry had told me something about this."

"And yes, that's probably where this stemmed from. I don't know. I finally went to the Hospital Wing after I was really sure I was pregnant. They can give a rough estimate of when it happened, but for once Muggle medicine is far more progressed than ours. It's a two week time frame."

"Two weeks in which you shagged both Thomas and Finnegan. Wow." Draco let out a low whistle. Ginny glared.

"As I was saying, Dean overheard. And then when I couldn't tell him for sure if it was his, he knew it could also be from Seamus. So he ran off and got Seamus while Harry kind of cornered me and was asking things like if I was alright and what had happened, and I explained that I shouldn't have to explain to him where babies come from. And Dean freaked out and said there was no way it could be his, which pissed off half the people in the group. I don't think he meant it that way, but Ron started yelling and then you two walked up."

"Thank you, Ginny." Hermione still couldn't shut her mouth, the shock was too great. "And... congratulations, I suppose."

"Yes. Despite circumstances... I'll have to do some thinking. But I'll at least have the baby. At least, put it up for adoption. At most, perhaps raise him or her."

"We'll talk to you later." Ginny stood to leave, and Draco huffed.

"Send in Potter."

When Harry crossed the small space and went into the shielded area, Draco had already summoned stools for the three of them and sent one with Ginny.

"Potter. We know she-weasel is pregnant and she doesn't know who is the father. But what the hell is everyone yelling about?"

"Dean said something, I think it may have been taken wrong..."

"At least your stories are straight. Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Do we need to talk to Potter anymore?"

"No. Perhaps Ron last, and definitely Seamus and Pansy."

And so, Harry was sent away and Seamus took his turn walking across the room. Before he entered, Hermione turned to Draco.

"Honestly you're going to have to talk. I can't even focus, this is too weird..."

"Take a walk down that corridor - I'll lift the shield for a moment. Come back in a few minutes and we'll dole out punishment."

She gave him a weak little smile and left the area, not to return for several minutes.

Meanwhile, Draco questioned a panicked looking Seamus, and Harry cleared his throat.

"Dean?"

"Harry?"

"What if it is yours?"

"It would be pretty easy to tell, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"Honestly, Potter, I shouldn't have to explain to you that if the baby comes out dark-skinned, it's not from Seamus."

"Oh."

"_Oh._ Yes, Harry. Oh. And if it is mine... honestly, I'd do whatever I could to help her with the baby and whatever she chooses, but I don't think she and I could handle a relationship. I wasn't aware she was with Seamus at the time, too. Not really."

"I see. What do you think Seamus would do?"

"Honestly? Cry. And probably set something on fire."

"Yeah, that's probably true." Both men and Pansy turned their heads to see Ron pacing still, muttering curses under his breath. Ginny was sitting in a summoned stool Draco had sent her with, ignoring everyone. It was probably for the best. Seamus came out next, looking terrified as ever, and sent Pansy in. She took several minutes talking to Draco, who had taken over after Harry had seen Hermione leaving from the other side, clutching at her chest. Was she that affected? Probably. They all were. Pansy came out next and sent Ron in, and the group watched intently as Ron became more and more angry with Draco, whose smirk only grew as time passed. Hermione came into the room again, they spoke for five more minutes, and Professors followed soon after, unable to get past the shield charm.

Ron stormed out, Hermione followed him, apparently begging something of him. Draco followed, trying to stop Hermione. The Professors still couldn't get through, and were silent on the other side.

"Dean Thomas! I remember what you said about my sister, and I don't appreciate it..."

Harry stepped between them, holding his arms out. "Ron, it was a misunderstanding, I just talked to him, he was just saying that he couldn't be with your sister after everything but that he was going to try and help them..."

"That's shit! He's an arse and he's going to abandon my sister!"

"Forgive me for having a little off with her then, Ron, but that's not my game. I think you forget - she was the one sleeping around, not me."

"She was what?"

"Sleeping around. Pardon, Ginny, but you were. And it's not my fault. I'll help with the baby, but..."

Ron leaped at Dean, and his fist connected with Dean's jaw. All at once, four wands were raised and pointed at Ron. In a split second, several different spells were yelled out, and Ron's body went incredibly tense before he shouted and collapsed on the floor, unconscious. In a minute, Draco brought down the shield charm and the Professors came rushing forward, all shouting questions and demands.

In the five minutes that followed, many things happened - Hermione and Draco explained the fight and the cause. Ginny was given the option to go home for the rest of the year, or to stay at Hogwarts. She chose to stay, on the chance that she could test out. Dean Thomas had his jaw - broken from Ron's punch - healed. Hermione cried, Draco looked confused. Pansy laughed for nearly two minutes straight, getting mild glares from her boyfriend, Harry. Ginny got sick all over Ron's still form and Seamus's feet. Seamus got sick on top of Ginny's sick. And nine very surprised Professors issued week long detentions and privilege restrictions to four students found guilty of hexing another student - Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, and Hermione Granger - Head Girl, and newest rule breaker. Once things were somewhat settled, the group rushed quickly out of the castle and towards the waiting students and remaining professors - half an hour late. Professors conversed as Harry and Pansy gave minimal effort to setting up for the challenge, instead charming whispered secrets to each other. Ginny was in tears, being comforted only slightly by Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, all three of which looked positively sick. Draco seemed to have every intention of continuing on with Hermione as usual - but she seemed infuriated.

"Hermione, come on. You have to admit, it's a little funny."

"Funny, Draco? I just hexed my ex-boyfriend because his sister's pregnant and he went on a rage spree and decided to try and physically fight his own roommate and possibly the father of the child. My ex-boyfriend is now in the Hospital Wing, unconscious, and you can't pretend it's just because of the other three."

"Well, you did nearly shriek your hex at him. And we know how powerful your magic gets when you're angry..."

She shot daggers at him with her eyes and stormed off. Draco tried following after her, though he knew it would be of no use. Still, he kind of liked it when she got all angry like that.

* * *

Ron woke in the Hospital Wing in a terrible mood. The last thing he remembered was being so angry his own words weren't making sense, and punching Dean. Why had he punched Dean, really? Trying to replay the situation, he found that he couldn't, and had the strangest feeling in his head. He yelled out, rather rudely of course, to Madam Pomfrey. She came bustling in just a minute later, looking rather irritated.

"What? I've just been with your sister."

"Why can't I remember anything?"

"The Headmistress erased a short portion of your memories."

"Why?"

"Because you were being a prat, apparently, and a few people knocked some sense into you. You were hit with a stinging hex, _petrificus totalus, _oppugno, and a freezing hex all at the same time. Remarkable you weren't injured further, really, Miss Granger's stinging hex bruised you a bit and burned your skin though. Might have minor scarring."

"Hermione hexed me?"

"As did Potter, Finnegan, and your own sister."

"Oh."

"And if Potter and your sister and Hermione did, I feel Seamus was probably justified as well. I heard you started a fight - physical violence is not tolerated at Hogwarts School."

"I know."

Ron flopped back on the bed, groaning. His head hurt, and his leg hurt. There was a little burn and some serious bruising. He threw his head back and grunted. What on earth had happened to make everyone so mad at him?

* * *

Hermione sat on her bed for nearly an hour replaying the events of the afternoon. Ginny was pregnant. She didn't know who the father was. Ron had hit Dean. Seamus and Ginny had gotten sick. Four people had hexed Ron. Draco had been shocked, Pansy had laughed, and now she had detention with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Seamus for a week. Could it have gotten to be a weirder afternoon? Unlikely. Why couldn't Draco have just come to the fields like he was supposed to? Why did Ron have to go yelling? And why had Hermione herself lost so much self control that she'd actually hexed someone? One of her friends, even? Even if Ron had been a right prat at times during their friendship, she swore to herself after the Oppugno incident in sixth year that she'd never use magic against a friend, ever again. And she'd gone and nearly hexed Ron's leg half to death.

Draco knocked on the door again. What was it with him and not giving up, when it came to knocking? She turned off the light and took three deep breaths before she turned it on again, opened the door, and followed him outside to help set up the games. She couldn't let go of the fact that she'd hurt someone. Deliberately.

* * *

"Really, though? I found it oddly humorous."

"Pans, how on earth can you find something like that funny?"

"I mean, I know they're your best friends and whatnot. But try understanding it from my point."

Harry dropped her hand and sighed. "Try seeing it from mine. My ex-girlfriend is pregnant, she doesn't know who the father is between two of my roommates, one of which hexed my best mate, who is my ex-girlfriend's brother, and because I did too, I've got detention all week!"

"You do. And the fact that you've gotten your first of the year by hexing your best friend is a little ironic, at least." Pansy smirked, unable to keep at least some sort of amused look off her face. To her, it was funny - the Gryffindor group all yelling and hexing each other, out of control. She only wished there were pictures to bring back to the Slytherin dungeons.

"It's not funny, Pansy. This is serious."

"I'm sure."

Harry stopped walking, unable to deal with Pansy's light take on the situation. It may not have been her own friends, but they were his best friends - and shouldn't she be there for him, be supporting him a little bit? As they helped set up the course for the challenge, he charmed a message to her.

_Be here for me. _

He hoped she'd listen. _  
_


	21. Late May

**AN: Okay, after the last update, things are really moving along. This is the first of the last four chapters, it's depressing! I've been working on this fic for so long that it feels weird to say that i'm almost done with it. It's been over a year that I've been working on The Eighth Year. It was my first real, full-length story, it was my baby! Anyway, I'm going to do my best with these last few chapters, to do it justice. Please enjoy and please review, this thing deserves so many more than it gets. Cheers! **

* * *

She missed him, plain and simple. The way they'd duel in his office, or how he was so patient when tutoring her. She missed the look in his eyes when he'd talk about Quidditch. She missed the look in his eyes when he was looking at her, chilling her all the way through. It was ridiculous, really, trying to wait - it had been a month of them trying not to be together, and it wasn't working. Luna knew only one thing, a certain thing that had been bothering her for a while now. Despite trying to be responsible, trying to not cause a scene, and everything else - over the course of the school year, she'd begun to love Oliver Wood, and she was not going to let herself lose that. Not now. She crept through the deserted hallways of Hogwarts, making sure to check corners before turning, so as not to get caught. Curfew was over half an hour ago, she couldn't get caught out of bed - especially not to go visit Oliver. When she finally reached the door of his office, her heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird, and she felt as if she couldn't breathe. She knocked twice, and waited. There was no answer. She tried again, and finally heard grumbling and shuffling.

"Who's it?"

"It's... it's me. It's Luna."

The door flew open, and Oliver smoothed his hands over his bedhead, his eyes wide. "You're here."

"I couldn't sleep. I had to see you."

"I don't understand - you said we should wait."

"I don't want to wait. Maybe we shouldn't be so public about it, but I can't stand not being with you."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. I realized that tonight, and I realized..."

"Hmm?"

"Let me in. I can't say this standing in the cold hallway." She lit a fire in his fireplace and sat on the couch.

"Luna?"

"Right. I realized that I've begun to love you. And as much as it scares me, I shouldn't try and stifle it. We just have to be a little quiet about things until I graduate. Speaking of, my most important exams are later this week. And after that, I'll be given the opportunity to take the test..."

"To test and graduate early. Do you think you can do it?"

"I think so. I just need to study, a lot. I need to learn some more advanced seventh year topics, since I'm technically still taking sixth year classes this year. I want to do this, so I - so we - can be together."

"Did you bring your books?"

"You want to start tutoring me tonight?"

"I'll tutor you whenever you want, for however long you want. Thank you, so much Luna." He sat beside her and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "I have a spare set of most of the books. Let's get to work."

* * *

"Alright. I could have been a little more sensitive to the subject."

"Yeah, you could have."

"I was a bit insensitive and I shouldn't have said what I did or anything. I'm... I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted." It had taken six days for Harry and Pansy to fully make amends. He still wasn't over it. Harry was very overprotective of his friends, and Pansy had essentially insulted half of them. She had come to him today to say that she was sorry for how she'd acted, and despite her best efforts, it still bothered him. That point was missed on none.

"Look, Harry. I'm sorry. I know you're still mad and everything, but you have to understand, it was an odd situation for me."

"I understand that. I'm just still not happy with how you acted."

"And I'm not either. And I understand that you're upset because your ex-girlfriend was sleeping around with half the men in the castle, but you can't take that out on me."

Harry simply stared. Though she had some reasoning to it, she still wasn't being very nice about it. She'd been less than supportive.

"I can't handle this, not right now. Pansy, I need to think about some things." He left her standing in their hallway, before a conversation could even begin. It would be the first night in a long time that they wouldn't spend together, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

* * *

"Hermione, please come out."

"No."

"I'm not doing this again."

"Apparently, you are. Please stop, Draco. I'm exhausted after detention, I just want some sleep." It was just past one in the afternoon, and she'd had to spend all morning collecting leaves from a rare native plant in the forbidden forest. "I'm tired."

"I understand that, but that's no excuse for the last four days of this. You're my girlfriend. I want to see you."

"I want to see the insides of my eyelids. I'm a teacher who has detention. I have lessons to prepare between detention and sleep and eating, at some point. And Head Girl duties!"

"You're doing well, you know. Really excellent." He walked away from the door, and then heard it open.

"I don't know."

"You are, Hermione. You're teaching, and you're a student, and you've got Head Student duties on top of detention? Anyone else would just die."

"I feel like it."

"But you haven't."

"No. But I've been worried lately, too. You know they wiped Ron's memory of that afternoon?"

"Yes."

"I don't agree with that decision."

"And why on earth wouldn't you?"

"Because Ron is different than he used to be - he's grown a little in the last year. He's been through a lot. Losing a few memories shouldn't be added to that, and honestly? I think he'd apologize."

"I see."

"I want to tell him. Everything."

"Is that such a wise idea?"

"We don't have to tell anyone that I told him. I'm going." She shrugged on a light sweater and nodded. "I have to."

Five minutes later, she found herself in the Hospital Wing. Ron was spending his last afternoon there, after having been watched for nearly a week to make sure he had recovered from the various hexes and jinxes. He was reading - a sight Hermione never thought she'd see.

"Ron?"

"Her-Hermione... hi."

"Hello. I heard they wiped your memories of that afternoon."

"Nobody will tell me anything."

"That's why I'm here."

He eyed her curiously, and she shook her head.

"I don't agree with their decision. I think that you can handle it, and honestly Ron, I want to give you the chance to apologize to everyone, and they can apologize to you as well. First off, I apologize for hitting you with a stinging hex. A strong one. That was a spur of the moment thing, and while it was perfectly warranted, a hex may have been a little much. Has it healed?"

"Not entirely. I'll have a little scarring, you burned me a little."

"I see. Anyway, it starts like this..." She told him everything that had happened that day, from everyone's different points of view. He looked shocked, and sad, and embarrassed all at the same time.

"Shit."

"Yes Ron, shit. You messed up."

"I vaguely remember not being able to think straight. Dean had implied..."

"Dean implied nothing, you took it the wrong way and blew up. You broke his jaw."

"Oh. Hold on..." He pulled a piece of parchment from his bag and scribbled a note on it quickly. "Can you give this to Dean for me?"

She looked inside - _Really sorry I broke your jaw, mate. We need to talk. _It was typical Ron. "I will." She stood to leave.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. And I'm sorry for... this year. All of it. I've been a prat, we all know it and I've said it before. But I'm really sorry."

"Apology accepted. And Ron? I'm sorry too." Tears welled in her eyes, thinking of all they used to have and could never have again. "I really am."

He nodded, his own eyes looking a little misty. "Look, I'll be out of here tomorrow. Sit with me at breakfast, just us. We'll move down the table from everyone else. I miss you."

"I... alright. I miss you too, Ron. You're one of my best friends, and..."

"And even though I've messed almost everything up this year, the one thing that would make it better would be to fix things with us. Be friends again. Us and Harry."

"Exactly. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Ron."

That, she thought, had gone much better than expected.

* * *

"The option to leave still stands, Miss Weasley." McGonagall stood over Ginny, who was currently emptying her lunch into the toilet in the Headmistress' office.

"I know that." She vomited again. "I'm still saying."

Her headmistress offered her a small vial. "Take this, it's for the sickness. I can have Madam Pomfrey mix you up a batch for the remainder of the year. You're lucky there's only a month left - otherwise, we would have to send you home. We should be anyway. Have you talked to your parents?"

"Extensively! My mother sent me a howler and then owled me two days later to apologize for it. She's asking a lot of questions."

"She has every right."

"Of course she does."

"And what, if it's not too much to ask, is your choice?"

"I'm going to have the baby, obviously. I don't like the idea of getting rid of it. I've talked to Dean and Seamus, and both of them have agreed that they'll both help take care of me before the baby is born, and when it is and we know for sure who's it is, the father will continue to help me. Seamus has already said that even if it's Dean's, he wants to help me out. He was really scared at first, cried a bit, but he's... he's really great."

"I see. And?"

"And I don't know what else, really. Dean has said that there could never be a relationship between us again, and as much as I wouldn't like it if the baby were his, I have to respect that. Seamus though, he told me, pulled me aside... he's had feelings for me for a long time. He didn't know I was also with Dean, which was what scared him so much. I think we might work things out, especially if the baby is his."

"I see. Now, I know you're trying to test to Graduate this year."

"I am."

"Would you like me to help you find a tutor?"

"I would."

"Do you mind who it is?"

"Not at all. I'd like someone in their eighth year, obviously. Someone who gets good marks and whatnot."

"I think I have the perfect match - and he's completely separate from the group who was involved in last weeks incident."

"Thank you, Headmistress. I can't thank you enough for this support."

"I can't imagine your position, Miss Weasley, but I assume it's difficult."

"Terribly."

She bent down to level with Ginny. "Then I'm here. Remember that - I'm not just an enforcer of rules."

Ginny nodded, wiping her mouth. "Thank you."

* * *

"Heather?"

"Hmm?"

"Where do you live?"

She stayed quiet.

"Heather?"

"Sorry. I... not close. Not anywhere close to you."

"Oh."

"I'm in Dubai right now. My family travels a lot for my parents jobs. I'll likely be in India by the middle of summer. Are you wondering because of... us?"

"Yeah."

"I figured. Neville, you know I really like you. But I live very far, and apparating back and forth isn't really advisable. I'd like to continue seeing you, but..."

"You don't know if it'll work after term ends. I understand, I'm feeling the same."

"That's a relief. Neville, you could have any girl in the world. You'll find someone who lives close to you and who really feels for you like I do."

"I don't want anyone else. Maybe we'll figure something out, maybe we won't. But Heather I... you're the perfect girl for me. I wish there was a way to make this work."

"Let's just enjoy the time we have left." Her voice shook, she was very near crying. He wouldn't admit it, but he was too. They hadn't known each other long, but it had been his first girlfriend, and he really valued that.

"Yeah. At least we have the next few weeks." He smiled weakly and pulled her in towards him, kissing the top of her head as he did.

* * *

"Students, please! I have an announcement to make." The room went quiet - this had to be something big.

"Two announcements, really - the first is that the third and final challenge takes place next week. Details will be released soon, but be prepared. It will commence two days before your exams, and end on the day before exams. I'll give you one hint - study up on your charm work and defensive spells." She smiled, and the room broke into whispers. With a wave of her hand, they fell silent again. "The second announcement is something much bigger - before the war, a number of specialized wizarding Universities began construction, and were not due to be done until next year. However, they are now due to be finished this July. This means that students graduating this year - in their eighth or seventh year at Hogwarts - are eligible to apply.

"There are three different schools - a school of magical maths and sciences, a school of practical magic and liberal arts, and a school of government and regulatory magic. They each reside on campuses a mere kilometer from each other in the Irish countryside, located near a small lake and a wizarding village not unlike Hogsmeade, but larger. I desperately insist that any graduates with decent marks on their exams apply as soon as possible. For this reason, exam scores for seventh and eighth years - as well as early graduation test results - will be given to you all the day after exams conclude. You will be able to apply by owl that afternoon, and a list of those accepted into their chosen university will be posted within 72 hours."

This created the biggest buzz the castle had seen in months. A university? This opened up new opportunities for everyone, to acquire a degree that would get them a better starting job in their professions. Seventh and eighth year students immediately began asking each other if they'd be applying. An overwhelming majority confirmed that they would.

Harry thought of his future - what exactly did he want to do? Now he'd have a few years to figure it out, to really focus on learning about himself and what he could possibly do.

Neville thought of Heather - if she were to graduate this year with him, or even next year, they could be together at University, and who knew where things could lead after that?

Ginny thought of the opportunity she would miss. Perhaps she could go back another year - just start a year late. She wondered if she'd be the only one with a baby, or if she'd be able to go at all.

Hermione thought of her teaching post at Hogwarts - next year had been promised to her. But she could learn even more from a University. And she could figure out what she really wanted to do.

Luna thought of Oliver - would she be going to school, then? Or would she work? Would he continue at Hogwarts? Would she maybe join him in two, three, four years? What would happen to them?

Seamus thought of the baby that might be his - would it keep it's mother from going to school? How could he help?

Pansy thought of Harry - if the university didn't exist, they likely wouldn't make it as a couple. Their backgrounds were too different. But could a few years of potentially dating him the entire time be enough to change their circumstances?

Draco thought of Hermione. What would she do? Where would he have to go, to follow her?

Oliver thought of Luna. If Luna could go to university, she could get a teaching position. Perhaps she could get one without university. Perhaps, even, he might have a better idea - a new place of employment.

Ron thought of his options - he could really turn himself around. He could learn, REALLY learn, and finally find something that he was really good at.

McGonagall, smiling from her stance before the high table, smiled and nodded, ending her speech. She thought of her students - of their potential. She glanced around the room, taking note of names she really hoped to see applying for university. This would change everything for them.

* * *

"I'm assuming you're applying." Draco smirked, looking at his girlfriend, who lay stretched out on their common room couch, reading.

"You're assuming wrong."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I'm not sure university is the place for me."

"Now you're really messing with me."

"I'm not! Draco, you have to think about the big picture. I'm a professor. I have a job promised to me."

He couldn't follow her if she was staying at Hogwarts. It would be nearly impossible. "But..."

"I haven't made my final decision. I'd have to talk to McGonagall about it first, she what she says. I trust her in these matters."

"Of course. I'm going."

"I'm glad, Draco." She set her book down, twisting to sit up a little and look at him. "I really am. I'm proud. What are you going to do?"

"Don't laugh."

"Of course not."

"I'm thinking of going into the government and regulatory school."

She nodded. "Redemption. Vindication. Doing right and enforcing goodness. I like it."

"I thought you might. I just have to apply, and..."

"Your grades are phenomenal. You're Head Boy. I doubt you won't get in. Personally, I'd be going into law if I graduated as well, we'd be at the same building."

"I'd like that."

"I would too." He smiled at her. "Carry on with your reading. No use worrying over something we don't know much about yet."

* * *

There was roughly ninety percent of the qualifying student population gathered in the great hall. After a million questions, Minerva McGonagall finally threw in the towel and started to spread the word about a 'workshop' of sorts, to talk more about University and their options. She hadn't expected this many. A large percentage of seventh years were mixed in with the eighth years, all whispering to each other and talking about their potential options. She finally cleared her throat, caught their attention, and began.

"Many of you have been asking me millions of questions about University - I can only answer so many like this, so I'll go through the process with you and explain a few things, and then I'll open the floor for more questions. First, eligibility - anyone who graduates this year is eligible to apply. There is no definitive grade average that determines your acceptance, it depends on different scores in different subjects and levels, plus your record of contributions to the school and to your own lives. There is a small group of university professors that is doing the choosing, and they will take your two page application, look over your scores, and make their decision. We will be notified within three days. Your families will also be notified. That night, we will gather again to send in our confirmation or declination of attendance.

"Dormitories are available on campus, in apartments for two students, or suites for four. People in the same college will stay in the same dormitories, there are no mixed subject dorms. Dorms are, however, mixed gender, so please be careful." She chuckled at her own joke. "Tuition is very low, and for those who can't afford to pay, a work program is available so that you may earn a little money and pay your tuition while working for or around the school. It is 90 galleons per semester, two semesters per year. The average degree will take two or four years to complete, some may take up to six or even eight years, for the most in-depth, rigorous occupations.

"A quidditch team will exist, and will compete with other wizarding schools in the UK. This will be the first year of a collegiate league for Quidditch, and the coach is very excited to begin. There will also be academic teams and activities by subject. Meals will be served similarly to how they are at Hogwarts, however, university students have the option to leave Campus and head to the local wizarding town for their meals as well."

"Are there any questions?"

There were none. Everyone was too shocked to even think of anything.

"I see. That concludes our university workshop, if you intend on getting in, I suggest you head back to your dormitories and start studying." She smiled and watched as every student jumped up, talking about going to the library or studying together or a mix of the two. Was this all it would take to get a bunch of lazy seniors to start studying?

* * *

Ginny got a note midway through her class - McGonagall found her a tutor, and since they both had the next period free, they were to report to her office immediately. He was aware of who she was and had accepted the task of being her tutor, so she figured that whoever it was, was at least a decent person. When class was dismissed and her things were packed, Ginny went straight to the headmistress' office, and was completely surprised to find Blaise Zabini inside.

"Blaise?"

"Ginevra. Professor McGonagall came to me this morning and asked me if I'd tutor you."

"And you _agreed_?"

"I did. I'm here, aren't I? I'm aware of your... situation. And besides, I'm an excellent tutor. How do you think Crabbe and Goyle never flunked out of school?"

"Oh."

"Exactly."

At that moment, McGonagall stepped out from her private quarters, muttering something about university admissions. "There you are, children. Excellent. I'm sure you're acquainted already, and if you're both ready, you can leave me now and begin."

"Ginny?" Blaise gestured towards her. He already had parchment, a quill, and a few books stacked in his hands. "Will you?"

"I will." She didn't know why she agreed to it, or why she said it, but if it meant being able to graduate early, she needed all the help she could get. Even if it was from Blaise. He carried her bookbag and made sure she didn't fall down the narrow stairs out of the office - it was a good first step.


	22. Early June

**AN: This should be a long chapter. A lot is happening, it's the beginning of the last month of school. We've got final exams, NEWTs, the third task, an interesting announcement from Hermione, a few developments in relationships, the Grad List is posted, and the Commencement speakers are revealed. Just know, it's going to be a lot to remember, it's probably a good idea to re-read the last chapter or so before you start this one. The next one is even longer, then we've just got a chapter for Commencement and an Epilogue! I may or may not be doing a SHORT sequel to this, following their first year out of Hogwarts, University, start of careers, and seeing which relationships stood the test of time and distance. Cheers! I've loved this fic, I've been working on this the longest, and I'll miss it when it's done. Enjoy, and REVIEW. **

* * *

Leaving. It wasn't something Harry liked to think about, when concerned with Hogwarts. He hated leaving the place every year - heading back to the dreary, unpleasant life with his Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin. This year was different, but still very similar. He was leaving Hogwarts - packing his trunk, gathering up everything he possibly could that had been strewn about his floor throughout the year. He was stuffing quills into bags, pairing up lost socks, and folding random bits of leftover parchment. This year, however, there would be no unpacking. He was likely to chuck the entire contents of his trunk. He'd never be coming back for another year at Hogwarts, he'd never be roaming the halls between classes, or getting homework done by Hermione, or playing another Quidditch match for Gryffindor. Everything was about to change.

"Oi, Harry! Have you seen the quill mum sent me at Easter?"

"The green one?"

"Yeah."

"It was over by Dean's bunk, I think. You were tossing things around the other night and it fell that way."

"Thanks."

The five boys in Harry's dormitory - the boys he'd come to trust and love like brothers - were packing, just as he was. Dean was all calm and cleanliness, organizing his trunk down to the location of his bottles of ink. Seamus was frazzled and looked like he hadn't slept in a week, tossing everything in and sitting on the top of the trunk to make it close. Neville, who'd changed so drastically throughout the year, right under Harry's nose, was effortlessly tossing things in, muttering something to himself about University and his Gran. He'd gotten taller, and his shoulders had gotten broader. Come to think of it, if Neville had looked like this in their first year, the night he snuck out with Hermione and Ron, he wouldn't have crossed Neville. He'd be afraid of being flattened. Ron was, as usual, missing half of his belongings, most of them under his roommates beds or his own, or tucked under his pillow or in a drawer. Harry was certain he'd find at least a few of Ron's belongings in his own trunk when they returned to the Burrow in just a few weeks.

They would return to the Burrow, but only briefly for Harry. He was going to spend a few weeks traveling - he wanted to return to Godric's Hollow and see the remains of his parents house. He wanted to seek out any other family he might have - grandparents, perhaps, or maybe uncles or aunts on his fathers side. He wanted to see more of Europe. He wasn't sure if he'd be going alone - the rewards people had gotten from the ministry for fighting in the final battle were big enough to fund a long holiday and then have plenty extra to save for good use. He could take Ron, or Hermione. He could even take Pansy - though she'd gotten no reward, they could perhaps last as a couple. Merlin knew that between the two of them, she could easily afford it. It was only on this day, though, that Harry realized he wasn't sure if he and Pansy would last throughout the summer, let alone the next few weeks. Perhaps if they made it through Summer, and then into University, they could have a real shot. Only time would tell.

He packed the rest of things and glanced around the room at the four friends around him. Two could possibly be the father of Ginny's child, one was his best friend that he had to work on, and the last was likely to nab the "Most Changed" superlative at Commencement. Then there was Harry - _just Harry. _Yeah, a lot had changed in eight years. And a lot more was going to change, very soon.

* * *

"That was... fun."

"I suppose. I had to essentially babysit a bunch of lower classmen while they all frolicked about through the maze, but it wasn't terrible."

"I guess so. My team was the picture of efficiency."

"Screw you, Draco."

"Please do, Hermione." There he was, making those jokes again. She could kill him. As much as she wanted to slap him right across his perfect little face and tell him to grow up, there was a large part of her that didn't want to turn down his advances - and that part was growing daily.

To be completely honest, Hermione wanted to be angry with herself for falling for Draco like she did. She was supposed to spend this year preparing for a career, and instead she'd ended up teaching, babysitting, and inadvertently falling in, dare she say it, love.

The third challenge had gone well. They went through a maze, similar to that of the last task in the Triwizard Tournament but obviously much tamer. Students had to navigate their way through obstacles and charms, and got points for defeating things and more points for what order they arrived at the finish. Hermione had spent most of her time watching younger students and not giving her team an obvious advantage. Draco's team had somehow all worked together - and won. It was frustrating, of course, to Hermione. She never did like being second best.

"McGonagall said she'd announce the final scores at dinner by the end of the school year. She said it was very, very close."

"When we're all split up like that, how could it not be?" She rolled her eyes. "I bet Harry was too busy telling stories to really work, of course..."

"I don't doubt it. Potter will always be a glory whore."

"Draco..."

He smiled sheepishly and waggled his eyebrows at her. "Sorry. You know how it is..."

"I suppose seven years of torment and boyhood dislike can't disappear in a year." She rolled her eyes again, standing up from the couch to retire to bed. It had been a long day. "I'm going to bed."

Before she could reach her door, she felt strong hands around her waist. "Or, you could stay out here for a little while... or come into my room."

She couldn't help herself - less than five seconds later, she was lost in a hot haze, and he was kissing her neck, and... "Fine. But not for long. I have to be up early tomorrow morning..."

"Success!" He pulled her back down on the couch in front of the fire. Regardless of her original intentions, Hermione did not sleep much that night.

* * *

"I'm still not sure I understand."

"It's easy, Luna, look - this is the last big thing you have to get done for Charms. Focus."

"I just want my wand, it's so strange without it..."

She glanced at her wand on the table, one that she should be allowed to use to do her magic. Oliver, however, had other ideas - in attempting to tutor her enough to pass the early graduation exams, he insisted that she get an upper hand by learning to do non-verbal and wandless spells. Non-verbal had come surprisingly quickly - she'd only practiced for twenty minutes before moving on. Wandless, however, was not nearly as easy - she might as well have been spouting nonsense and just flicking her hands around.

"There's only three days until your exam, Luna. Remember that. If you can do your work without words or a wand? They'd be crazy to not let you graduate early..."

She looked up at Oliver - hair sticking up in three directions from him running his hands through it, eyes shining with excitement. He really wanted her to get this, he really wanted her to graduate early. If she did, she would be a university student, hopefully - they would be together. They had that chance, now. All she had to do was summon this silly little blue book without using her wand or her words. She looked from Olivers blue eyes to the blue book and back again - this time, focusing all of her effort on the book, she thought the word in her head - _accio, book_.

It jerked suddenly and fell off the table in front of her. It wasn't the complete ten feet, but it was a start. Oliver jumped, throwing his fist in the air.

"Yes! Excellent, Luna, beautiful really... one more time, then?"

She smiled and nodded, watching him set up the book once more and listening to him babble on about concentration and feeling the book move. She wouldn't hate seeing him this excited again. She loved Oliver like this - smiling, happy to be with her. She only had to graduate and make it happen.

On the seventh try, the book shot into her open hands cleanly and quickly. Before either of them could fully grasp what had just happened, Oliver wrapped his arms around her, causing her to drop the book.

"I love you, Luna. I love you." She hadn't been expecting him to say it, but now he had, and there was no taking it back - not that she wanted him too, anyway.

"I love you too, Oliver." The pair embraced for a minute more before starting practice on their next section, eager to get Luna to the point where her early graduation was certain.

* * *

"So you really don't know who the father is?"

"I kind of... don't want to talk about it." Ginny bit her lip, for some reason she was especially nervous around Blaise. He looked at her, really watched her. He helped her study, almost to the point where she'd learned everything she'd need to know in order to graduate early.

"I suppose. It's kind of... I'm not really involved, though. Kind of the best sort of person to talk to."

Since he'd learned of Ginny's pregnancy, Blaise's attraction to her had waned. She was still pretty, still feisty, but there was something very... off-limits, about the whole thing. He had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he'd had a crush on this girl, and now she was pregnant.

"You're wise beyond our years, Blaise."

"McGonagall picked me for this for a reason. You could be all bitter and cold, but..."

"With my current status, I don't have the patience for it. I guess... I think I know who the father is."

"How so?"

"Well, one of them I only slept with once. The other happened... a few times. And he was usually careful."

"So you're thinking one of them has stronger swimmers?"

"To put it in those terms, yes. I just have this feeling. It's lucky, too, because I think he's better to handle this."

"That's... good. What are you going to do after you graduate?"

"I have no idea. I only know that I have to do it this year, so let's get started."

* * *

Congregated outside of the Great Hall were five very nervous young men.

Closest to the door was Oliver Wood. Glancing nervously in every possible direction, Oliver was waiting for his sort-of girlfriend, Luna, to exit. He'd taught her everything he could, and he hoped it would be enough for her to pass, graduate early, and have that shot to be together. She'd done well, he supposed, but she was forgetful and very clumsy - both disadvantages on the practical portion of the exam. They'd discussed strategies of taking this test much like he'd been used to planning Quidditch plays - Oliver never did things without giving it one hundred percent.

Slightly farther out and on the opposite wall was one Neville Longbottom. On talking to _his_ on and off girlfriend, they'd discussed the possibility of staying together if she could get into University this year - hence, living much closer together. She wouldn't have to go back to Egypt or wherever her parents would be next - she could be wherever he was.

A few steps away from Neville was Harry Potter. Though he had no girlfriend taking the test, (his own sort-of girlfriend, who couldn't care less about the whole thing, was currently napping.) Harry was nervous for his friends. Luna could pass and even if she didn't make it into Uni, she could be with Oliver. Ginny could pass and wouldn't have to worry about an eighth year while being very pregnant and then having the baby. And Heather, though he didn't know her well, had been talking to anyone within ear's reach about how she wouldn't have to move around again if she passed. It was a possibility for all three of them to get what they wanted, and Harry - noble as ever - wanted to support them.

Sitting against the wall, head in hands, was Seamus Finnegan - possible father of Ginny's baby, and friend to Luna and Heather, though it was obvious his concern was on Ginny. He'd asked her a few times how her studying was going, and she'd always assured him that things were going well. He didn't particularly like the fact that she had to meet with Blaise Zabini in private to do it, but if it meant that she could graduate early and he could help her raise the child that was possibly his, he didn't care how it had to happen. He just wanted it to happen at all.

Speaking of the tutor in question, Blaise Zabini had positioned himself carefully around the corner, out of sight from the four others waiting. He'd be able to hear the doors opening, he'd be able to 'run into' Ginny without it looking strange. He could ask her how the test went, and see if she still needed tutoring for the rest of her classes... if not, then he'd have to admit defeat. After all, it was now the strangest situation he'd ever had with any girl he'd found himself even remotely attracted to. Letting her go wouldn't be easy, but it would be easier under the circumstances.

Three hours, sixteen coughs, four bathroom breaks, one trip of Harry sneaking down into the kitchens to grab them snacks, and three whistled songs later, the door to the Great Hall cracked open, and then swung forward to let out the students who had taken the test. There were about thirty total, a good number of just seventh years trying to not have to take an eighth year. Each of the five men - including Blaise, who peeked his head around the corner - snapped their heads up, eager to see which of their girls would emerge first, and with good news or bad.

The first out was Ginny - looking frazzled and a little out of place, she first smiled at Harry, Oliver, and Neville before landing her eyes on Seamus.

"You're here."

"Of course I am."

"You waited, this whole time?"

"I didn't even get up to pee. I couldn't eat. I've been sitting here for over three hours."

"Seamus, I... thank you."

"Think nothing of it, Gin. I... wanted to support you, is all."

She smiled and hugged him close - the closeness there was missed by none, especially Blaise, who turned and left, put off.

Luna came out next, slowly shuffling along. Oliver swept her up before she could get two feet out the door, and she shrieked.

"Oliver! Put me down!"

"Not until you tell me how you did! I want to know all of it."

"I think I did alright. It's all up to fate, now." She smiled weakly at him, neither of them more assured by her answer. Time would tell.

Heather came out next, and as soon as Harry said hello, he walked off, his duty there being done. He had some work to make up, he was terribly behind in potions essays...

"Heather. How did you do?"

"I don't know, I really don't. I should have practiced more... my written exam was probably good enough, but I messed up the practical exam horribly."

"I'm... I'm sure it's fine. Come on. No use worrying about it, the results will be posted when?"

"In the next twenty-four hours. Neville, I'm nervous. After that, if I make it, I have to hope I can make it into Uni, or I'm stuck with my parents again. It wouldn't... it wouldn't be worth it, after all."

He smiled, putting his arm around her. "You'll make it. I've got a good feeling about it."

The reassurances made around the castle as girlfriends, best friends, boyfriends, family members, and more worried about their test results would be worthless, if they didn't find their names on that list. The next twenty four hours would be agony for all, and when the list was finally posted, the application process for University began, and then it was anyone's game.

* * *

Least worried about all of this, somehow, was Hermione. Draco couldn't understand it - the consummate worry-wart, the anxiety-ridden Head Girl, didn't bat a lash when he brought up University. Of all people worried about their future, he expected Hermione to top the list - even though everyone else knew she'd make it, she had a way of never being sure of herself.

"I think I'm applying to the school of Law and Reg... probably studying government and politics."

"Running for Minister, Draco?"

"I'm not going to limit myself to anything less. I'm a Malfoy."

"Yes, Malfoy... bound to rule, somehow."

"Precisely." She rolled her eyes at this one, setting down her book finally to lean into him.

"Draco, your big-headedness astounds me. At all times."

"You should be used to it by now. Where are you applying, by the way? You were talking about staying at Hogwarts or going into Law, last time I brought it up."

"I'll apply to Law and Reg as well, but on the regulatory side. I do like being a professor, though."

"I sense a SPEW, part two."

"Naturally. But I'm not worried about getting into University."

"Finally seeing what everyone else sees? That if anyone gets in, you will?"

"Not necessarily. I have essentially guaranteed admission."

"And why is that?"

"Employees also take classes for free. So while I'm teaching lower-level classes, I can also take my regulatory classes."

"Pardon? Employees? Hermione?"

Taken aback, Draco dropped his arm from around Hermione, standing. "Hermione, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, I did wait to tell you. You'll be the first to know, besides McGonagall, that I will not be returning to Hogwarts to teach - not in the near future, anyway. I am the newest Professor at - wait for it - Merlin University, recently named."

"You're joking."

"I'm not. They're paying me a rather large sum to come teach Arithmancy and Runes. Apparently, there aren't many people with the proper qualifications who would give up their jobs to come teach. So, I took it. I'll be teaching in the Bowman Wright school of Magical Maths and Sciences - the bloke who crafted the first Snitch, you know. There's also the Millicent Bagnold school of Government and Regulatory Magic, she was the Minister for Magic during Voldemort's first defeat, and then, get this - the Alastor Moody school of Liberal Arts and Practical Magic."

"I still think you're pulling my leg."

* * *

NEWTs were taken without so much of a blink of an eye - students who wanted grades good enough to be able to make it into University had been studying since the announcement was made, and those who didn't care, didn't bother. Students who were trying to graduate early had to take the NEWTs just in case they did indeed finish at Hogwarts that year, those who didn't graduate would be exempt from NEWTs in their eighth year, if their scores were high enough. Hermione didn't bother taking them, as she was guaranteed admission and was convinced by practically everyone within shouting distance that she shouldn't study away her final days at Hogwarts. Her professors - including herself - had agreed that her grades would be based off of work throughout the year only, considering everything she'd been through that year. Harry took his seriously, as did Ron - though he wasn't sure he'd even be applying for University. He was stupid, but not stupid enough to not know that he probably wouldn't get in.

* * *

"Did you make it?"

"No, did you?"

"Yeah. Tough luck. Hogwarts isn't so bad, though!" Two seventh year boys parted ways and said their goodbyes. Luna stood at the corner, about twenty meters down, not daring to walk the hallway and look at the list. The early graduation list had been posted for thirty minutes. Students had come and gone, rejoicing in their victory or upset over their defeat. The exam had been pretty difficult, for any of them. Luna was sure that her extra practice sessions - and her ability to do wandless, nonverbal magic - had given her a few good points.

But what if she just wasn't good enough? For the first time in her life, Luna was terrified of not living up to someone else's expectations. She usually couldn't care less about what people thought of her, or her interests, or her actions. But it was this one test - pass or fail, do or die - that had her so on edge.

If she passed, she graduated in just over two weeks. She could apply to go to the University, and she could visit with Oliver. They could be together, and she could help her father more at home, if she went home every few weekends. She could get better training for the future. She could do whatever she wanted, really.

If she didn't... she'd have to wait another year to be with Oliver. And who knew if they'd still have even a chance, then? She'd still be a year behind all of her friends. She'd be at Hogwarts, likely alone, for another whole year - just steps away from the man she'd love, but couldn't be with.

Heather and Neville rounded the opposite corner, checking the list. She threw her arms around his neck, they kissed. Apparently, Heather had passed. She was a pretty good student, Luna had seen her do very well on her practical exam.

Ginny shuffled around after them, hands on her stomach. She hadn't begun to show yet, but it was just part of her nature, now. Luna saw Seamus follow closely behind, his hand on Ginny's back, and Dean a few steps away, looking nervous. Ginny nearly shouted in the middle of the hall, she was so happy. Seamus congratulated her and kissed her cheek, Dean threw an arm around her briefly and smiled.

Now it was just Luna. She was pretty sure that every other student that had taken the test, had checked the list. She was probably the only person who didn't know their fate. It was madness, it was...

"Luna?"

She spun around to see Harry, kicking at the stone floors.

"Harry. Hello."

"I came to... You've been here a while. Watching the list. And not checking it."

"That's correct."

"I brought... well, that is, I ran into someone. Who's been looking for you."

Oliver stepped out from behind the corner sheepishly. He waggled his fingers at her, and smiled slightly. She couldn't read his face. Did he know?

"I'll just leave you two... good luck, Luna."

"Thanks, Harry." After a slightly awkward moment of the both of them not knowing what to do, Harry stepped forward and hugged Luna before spinning on his heels, leaving Oliver and Luna alone in the corridor.

"Luna, I... do you really not know?"

"I'm too scared to check." She bit her lip, looking up at him as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Do you want to know?"

"Of course I do, I just... wait, Oliver. Do you already know? If I passed or not?"

"I asked McGonagall if I could have the final task of writing the list of students who had passed. Given our circumstances, she agreed... I was the first person in this school to know."

"And?"

"You'll just have to go have a look then, won't you?" He grinned, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the hallway. He wouldn't be doing this if she hadn't passed, would he? But...

There it was. Third from the top, script neat and linear. _Luna Lovegood. _She'd passed.

Before she could even begin to look over the rest of the list, she felt lips on her ear, on her jaw, on her cheek - Oliver couldn't and wouldn't stop kissing her. She'd done it. They had their chance. And before they could get too far into it in the middle of the corridor, and risk her expulsion before graduation, Luna dragged Oliver back to his office, into his quarters, for a night of celebrating that neither of them would soon forget.

* * *

"There's something you should know, Draco."

"And that is?"

"I'm ready. For... _it._"

He hadn't been expecting that.

"Not tonight, of course. But Draco - I can't... I am. I just am."

He couldn't even speak. Ready? Now? Not tonight, but soon? Oh, gods. Yeah, maybe she was ready, but _he_ was going to be a nervous wreck, now.

"I... okay."

"Okay?"

"I can't think beyond that, not right now. I was not expecting you to be ready any time soon."

"I want to do it... while we're still here. I think it should happen here."

"Okay. I can... I'll arrange things."

"Thank you. And Draco? One more thing."

"Hmm?"

"As you know, McGonagall has been selecting speakers for Commencement... she wants three. She's asked Harry, of course. He's going to do one, though there are already bets going around that he'll get sick all over the podium. She just asked me. And... she told me who else she's going to ask."

"Who's going to get stuck speaking at the Commencement ceremony? Unlucky bloke, really, I'd be all too nervous, getting up in front of a few hundred people who have previously hated my guts."

"She allowed me the gift of asking this person personally."

"You're messing with me again, aren't you?"

"Draco... you're the third."

"Damn."

"You'd better come up with something good. She's only asking you because she knows you can do well. Disappoint McGonagall and she's likely to hex you into next year. You won't see university at all."

"I hate you."

"You don't. Not anymore." She sat down beside him, leaning into his side as usual. He groaned, set an arm around her, and sighed.

"Now I've got _two_ things that are going to be killing my nerves. And University applications on top of that! So much for the last few weeks of our last year being calm and easy..."


	23. Late June

**AN: I'm still sad about ending this fic. It's been my little drama-filled project baby for what, a year and a half now? Longest chapters, crazy ships, good times. Sadly, one relationship is ending soon. There's just so much going on! This is the third to last chapter - only two more after this. I'm really thinking about doing that sequel - following their first year of University, of new jobs, of changing relationships and a bit of drama and a bit of fluff and harder classes, new professors, co-ed dorms, a few parties, nights out on the town, everything everything! Hehe. Let me know what you guys think of it. Review, please. And enjoy!**

* * *

"I wonder about you, sometimes."

He'd been waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Pansy practically slithered around the door frame, finally taking a seat beside him. "You're just... an enigma, Harry."

"The same can be said for you."

"I want to apologize."

"For?"

"Not supporting you when you might have needed it. For laughing about a problem of yours."

"I see. I wonder about you, too."

"I figured." She grinned, he shook his head.

"I just wonder about... us. And seriousness. And starting University, and..."

"And if we'll make it?"

"Yeah."

"Well, we have choices. Get scared and end it now. Keep trying and risk not being as happy anyway. Or just sort of play it by ear and seeing how we feel after Commencement."

"I guess that sounds best."

"I was thinking about it too, to be perfectly honest. Harry, you've changed a lot about me and I'll always love you for it..."

"But we're just not suitable, in the long run. I know. You're very..."

"I'm done-up, Harry, and wound-up too. I'm not a very loose sort of person. I'm prissy - I know. You're laid-back and you need to relax, after the last... what, decade?"

"Yeah."

"Let's just see how things go, then. I really... thank you, Harry. You've done a lot for me." She kissed his forehead and stood, trying to fight off the frown. She'd known this was coming. They'd barely spoken or seen each other in the last few weeks. They had probably, sadly, run their course. Just before she turned the corner, he called out to her.

"Pansy?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you, too... I... you did a lot for me too. Even if you don't realize it."

"You're welcome. _Potter._" She grinned and turned the corner. Even if their relationship ended, Harry was nearly certain that a friendship wouldn't. Something good would come of this - of late night meetings, of their secluded hallway. He was sure.

* * *

"Students, if you'd please settle down... you're all here for one reason, and I'd like to be able to guide you through the process as quickly as possible!" Still, talking echoed throughout the Great Hall. _Sonorus, then. _

_"Students, please!" _They quieted down immediately. Now, she knew why Dumbledore had used the charm so often. In her first year as Headmistress, McGongall had sifted through Dumbledore's quirks and eccentricities and developed her own style of leading the school - so far, no one was dead or seriously injured, and the castle was still in one piece. In her opinion, that was good enough.

"The application deadline for Merlin University is this coming Friday - leaving you all three days to apply. For those of you that passed the early graduation exam, a signature will be needed from myself or from your deputy headmaster, Professor Flitwick, before you send the application in. Packets are assembled on the high table according to which of the three schools you will be applying to. An individual student may only personally apply for two schools, but with Headmistress approval, a third application for the third school may be accepted. Friday night, we will be finishing our packets and sending them in one collective bunch to the University. Results will arrive at the school and will be posted within seventy-two hours of submitting. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me in my office tonight. A list of careers relating to specific schools within Merlin is posted in the back. The Great Hall and Library will remain open two hours longer over the next few days to allow extra time for filling out your applications to the best of your abilities, and I've asked that your professors give no homework until then. Curfew is extended one hour. And students, please. Good luck - some of you need it."_ Quietus.  
_

McGonagall stepped out from behind the podium and allowed the assembled seventh and eighth years to chat frantically about college. A surprising number of seventh years had graduated early, and she was glad for it - this year had been good, but insanely stressful. As she walked towards the back of the room to head out the door, she caught eyes with Harry, sitting alone in the back. He smiled and nodded at her, and she reciprocated. She'd been worried about him, in the beginning. The war could have seriously affected him, and definitely did - but he'd powered through all of it, and he'd come out alright in the end. She was proud of him - like a child of her own, he'd done something that she was so immensely proud of, it had caused her to tear up at times. She'd cry, come commencement day. She was sure of it.

* * *

"Yes, I get to live in campus housing with the rest of you."

"Do you do everything else the same?"

"Of course. It's just like having any other job - I work certain hours a day, while I go to school."

"But..."

"I teach classes two days a week and I go to classes the other two. I'm off Friday and the weekends."

"Oh. That's fantastic, actually."

"I'm rather excited about it. I'll get to keep teaching, but I'll also have the opportunity to learn more, and I can figure out what I really want to do."

"I thought you were doing law?"

"Well, that's one option. I could do that and teach, at the same time..."

"That's a lot to take on, even for you."

"I can do it."

"Of course you can, you'll just probably explode in the mean time."

"Draco, I'm not going to explode. I promise." The pair laughed, and Draco knew his time had come. He'd been thinking, and planning, and over-thinking. She'd said she was ready. There was very little left for him to pick apart. He knew the general mechanics of it. And he knew that they were attracted enough to each other for it to not be too awkward. And he knew that he was ready for _it_ too - and with her, especially. They'd been together since Valentine's Day, and while four months wasn't a whole lot of time, it was the longest relationship either of them had ever had, and they were pretty sure of it. They'd last a while, at least. He was ready.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"I was thinking about what you said last week. About being... ready."

"Oh."

"And if you're still... I mean, if you still mean it..."

"I do."

"Then I have things ready, I guess."

"For when?"

"Whenever you want."

"Oh."

"It could be tonight or any other night after. But I agree with you. It... should happen here."

"It really should. I don't know, tonight, thought?"

"Nervous?"

"You are too."

"You're damn right. But we'll always be nervous."

"Draco... what time is it?"

"Half past eight."

"We have two hours until the extended curfew ends?"

"Yes."

"I'll... I'll be right out. Be ready. I don't know..."

"I've got everything covered. You're all I need, now." How fitting, since she was in fact all that he needed. How had one frizzy-haired, smart arse, muggle-born, know-it-all come to have complete control over him like this? It was madness. He'd probably be insane by morning. But... with Hermione, it went beyond what the eye could see. Far beyond it. She was beautiful, to be sure, but in her own unique way - small and slender, thin shoulders, pointed little nose and wild chestnut hair. Tiny feet, tiny hands, big mouth. That was just... Hermione. She shut the door to her quarters, to get herself ready in whatever means she needed. Draco simply slipped into his quarters, threw on clean boxers and a clean sweater with his jeans, and made sure his hair hadn't messed itself up in the last ten minutes. It took a while to put that much product onto his head, and...

Ten minutes later, she emerged. In simple jeans, a white tank top, a light sweater on top, and her hair pulled back. But he could sort of _feel _something about her - it wasn't about what she may or may not have been wearing, it was the minutes she took to mentally prepare herself. They were nineteen years old, at this point - a good percentage of people their age had already done this. It was a sealed deal for the rest of them.

Draco, personally, had waited because he didn't find anyone good enough. A girl would be attractive, but stupid. Or she'd be intelligent, but annoying. It was a problem, constantly finding deal breakers in every woman he met. Hermione had been different - he'd grown up in somewhat close contact with all of her little quirks and issues, they were no longer bad things, just... things. Things that made up Hermione Granger, this woman that he sort of loved and was about to sleep with, for the first time he'd ever done so. She was blushing, but still smiling slightly. He took her hand and lead her through the corridors until they'd reached the hallway of the Room of Requirement.

"I should have figured you'd use this place."

"I thought about our quarters, but..."

"There's still time for that, perhaps. But this place is so... so remarkably _Hogwarts._ You know?"

"It's why I chose it. Plus, it let me put a fireplace next to the bed..."

On his third pass, the door appeared. Hermione touched a finger to the handle.

"It won't burn you."

She pushed down the handle and leaned against the door. Inside, the floors and walls were like any other part of the castle - worn, grey, and full of history. There was a large, white-covered, four-poster bed on the left side of the room, with a roaring fire beside it and a small table on the other side. On the right side was a comfortable looking couch and a door leading to what she was pretty sure was a bathroom.

"It's... nice."

"I figured it didn't need to be too fancy. Oh, wait just a second." He flicked his wand and candles came out of nowhere - growing up from the desk, from the mantle above the fireplace, from the table by the couch on the other side of the room. The light was low and warm - romantic, really. She was surprised he could come up with this. He lead her to the bed and sat beside her.

The following ten minutes were of complete, total, silence.

Hermione, with the courage only a Gryffindor could produce in that moment, cleared her throat.

"If this is your idea, you're doing it wrong."

He smirked and tapped her leg, making them both laugh. "I'm well aware of the mechanics of the thing, Granger."

"Are you?"

"I am. I... well, I did a bit of reading."

"Taking a lesson out of my book."

"Almost literally. So, you know, I know..."

"What to do. It's pretty simple. But it can't just happen, you know. We've got to start it."

He nodded, and after a moment he kissed her lips. Something about this kiss, of course, felt different - the two of them knew just how much farther this kiss was going to go, and had fully prepared themselves for it. He laid her back, settling on top of her, and let things build naturally. As things did usually go with them, shirts were off in a matter of minutes, and then her bra, and then she was reaching for his pants and they were writhing against each other. This was happening.

"Are you sure, Hermione?"

"I... yes. I am. Are you?"

"One hundred and twenty percent."

Pants came off, and for the first time, both were fully exposed, naked to the other. It was surreal, and intense. Never before had anyone seen her like this, not this close, not in any context... the same could be said for him, and the effect was nearly frightening.

"Do you have a...?"

"There's a charm."

"Oh. I figured. I just..."

He grabbed his wand off the bedside table and muttered a short incantation, pointing it at her abdomen. She felt a sort of chill settle over the area, and then nothing.

"You're sure?"

"Definitely. Wouldn't risk that." He positioned himself. He wasn't ready, but he was. She'd never done this either, but what if he made a fool of himself? What if it didn't... _work_? A quick glance down and the feeling he'd had over the last few minutes nixed that idea - everything was functioning perfectly, thank you. He felt her raise her hands and grab the back of his arms. She finally looked up at him and nodded. It was time.

* * *

"My little graduate! Love." Oliver stooped down to kiss Luna's cheek, making her blush furiously. She still wasn't used to him kissing her in public, but she'd had to work on it - he'd made a habit of it, and she couldn't refuse, even if she'd wanted to. She hadn't.

"Hello, Oliver."

"I have some good news, and some bad news. Which first?"

"Neither."

"Well, that..." He looked as if he were concentrating very hard, but couldn't quite grasp it. She laughed and squeezed his hand.

"Bad first."

"Remember I was telling you that night, that I wasn't going to stay at Hogwarts?"

"But Oliver, you've loved teaching this year!"

"I have. But Hogwarts... isn't where I need to be."

"Oh. Well, where will you be? Where is it? I... how far will you be from me?"

"Here's the good news - hopefully, I'll be within five feet of you at all times."

"I don't understand."

"I've applied to teach at Merlin U. They needed a flying instructor, full time. For those who didn't learn, or want to do it as a Physical elective, or train for Quidditch... which, I'd be the new Coach for."

"You're joking!"

"I'm not! They contacted me first - heard I'd taken the position at Hogwarts and had done well. They told me that if I can find my replacement at Hogwarts, I should come work for them. McGonagall told me she already had someone in mind, so I think it'll be done. I'll be taking classes too, for Coaching and Sports Management, so I could live in dorms, and..."

"You're coming to Merlin U?"

"Only if you'll be there. If you don't make it... I'll figure something out. I'll stay at Hogwarts and see you every weekend, something."

"I think I'm going to make it. I hope I will."

"I hope so too." He snuck in a little kiss, and smiled at her, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face. "You probably will, anyway... Now, there are only six days of classes left..."

* * *

Morning sickness _sucked_. It was even worse when Ginny had to jump up from her seat, rush past an entire classroom full of her fellow students, and hope to grab the bin in time to lose her breakfast/lunch/dinner. It was bad enough in the common room, where she had to rush upstairs to a bathroom, or in the Great Hall for meals - she kept a bin beside her, just in case. If news hadn't traveled fast enough, the occurrence of her vomiting every half hour did the job - everyone in school knew she was pregnant.

She got the occasional snicker or harsh comment - it was hard to ignore those, some mornings. Some of the fifth and sixth year Slytherins were especially harsh, their rivalries and prejudices not yet subdued by the reality and the huge impact of the war. They'd grow up one day. But for the most part, her experience wasn't too dreadful. She finished out her classes in quiet, spent a lot of time sleeping, reading, and eating, and enjoyed what little time she had left with the little friends she had left.

Seamus was especially supportive - always near enough to hand her a trash bin, or a napkin to wipe her face, or to run off for more of the potion that was supposed to stop this vile sickness. He carried an extra bottle of water in his bookbag, just for her, and though he sometimes pretended he didn't, she'd always see a cap. And any time she asked for water, he pulled out that brand new bottle.

She was always careful, with Dean. They used a spell nearly every time, or muggle contraception if not. The chances of it being his baby were slim. She and Seamus, on the other hand, had happened twice - neither time, had they used contraception. The odds were unerringly in his favor, and she was glad for it. After his initial shock, he'd been by her side constantly - including now, on the way to the Hospital Wing, to find out once and for all who's baby it was, and to deal with the aftermath.

Nobody else in school knew that she was worried. They all assumed it was Seamus', by the way they were spending so much time together. It would be easier and better on everyone if it really was his - no lies, no hiding. If it was Deans? They'd all wonder. That was fact.

"Miss Weasley, I was just unstoppering the vial. Are you aware of how this works?"

"From what I've heard it's a relatively new potion."

"It is indeed. Only recently tested to be one hundred percent accurate, every time. Is Dean with you?"

"No, he's... he promised he'd meet me here."

"No bother. We can do it without him."

"How?"

"Once you ingest this potion, it will surround the fetus momentarily. It lets off a genetic signature after that. When the father places his hand over your stomach, it will darken the skin there. It leaves a hand print - one that will remain until the baby is born."

"That's remarkable, really."

"No, just magic." Poppy Pomfrey uncorked the vial, poured it into a glass of plain water, and handed it to Ginny. "Drink up."

Within a few seconds of finishing, she felt a strange numbness in her tummy. Though it was too small for it to be possible, she could pinpoint the area at which her unborn child sat. "I think it's ready."

"Good. Mister Finnigan?" He shook his head.

"I don't know if I'm ready, I..."

"Nonsense. You have to do this before the potion wears away. Hand out, Mister Finnigan!"

He did as he was told and placed his hand flat against Ginny's stomach. Though there was no bump there, he could _feel_ that something was there, that something was changing. He looked up, into her eyes, and found her watching him. They both smiled slightly as Dean walked in the door - but to hell with it. The job was done. Seamus lifted his hand, and where it had been before there was a dark, soft handprint on her stomach, reaching wide. It looked as if his hand was there to protect the unborn baby, and perhaps it was. Seamus was the father. _Thank Merlin._

Blaise watched silently through the door from down the hall. His school boy infatuation was just that - an infatuation, no real feelings. It was best to let it go. _  
_

* * *

"I'm applying to all three."

"I thought you could only do two?"

"I'll get Flitwick to sign me off for Practical Magic... it's worth a shot. I can't live my life moving around like this. I don't know where home is."

"Heather..."

"Hmm?"

"Just... do your best." Neville smiled and kissed the top of her head, she reached up to touch his face and felt the bit of stubble there, the strong arm holding himself to the back of her chair.

"Of course, love. I'm already doing it. And as soon as Flitwick signs this... I'm done."

"Applications go out tonight."

The awkward pause left them both wondering. Would they both make it?

"I'll meet you after dinner, in the Entrance Hall. Don't take too long." He kissed her head again and left the Library, anxious to get out of there.

He knew he wanted to be with Heather, but he was unsure if she really wanted to be with him. He knew she wanted to stop moving around, to find some solid ground for a few years. But how solid were her feelings for him? Only time would tell. He could ask her, but... he was afraid of the answer.

* * *

He hadn't filled out a single application. There was still half an hour left, but... something didn't feel right. He quickly filled one out for the Law and Reg school, then climbed the stairs to the Owlery. All of the applying students were gathering there to send off their applications, as nearly every owl housed there would be used for the transport of applications. He found Harry in the crowd and briefly explained that he applied to a school on a whim. Harry slapped his back and grinned.

"I'm... I'm proud of you, Ron."

"It's just an application."

"One you didn't even have to do. But it's a shot."

"Yeah, a long shot... the odds of me getting in are slim to none."

"At least you applied. Think of how pleased Molly will be when she hears..."

"Yeah, mum'll probably like that." He blushed slightly. He hadn't thought of that - in all the nonsense that his mother could have gotten mad at him for, this was probably something she'd gush over for a while.

"She will. And, you know, if you do make it, there are plenty of girls _our age_ for you to meet..."

Ron slapped Harry's back mid-laugh, causing him to choke. "Arse."

"Adulterer. I think. There was something seriously morally wrong with that one..."

"And there's going to be something seriously wrong with your face, if you don't watch it..."

A female voice rang out behind them. "Have I taught you boys nothing about violence?" Hermione held a stack of papers in her hand, all applications. "I've been gathering up applications, sorry I've been so busy the last few days. Ron, how did you do finishing up Charms? Did you practice...?"

"The extra flick and whatever for that one spell? Not really."

"I expected as much. Did you do it on your exam?"

"I'm surprised I even remembered." The trio laughed. "But yes, I did."

"Excellent. Harry, applications?" Harry placed his set of two on top. Ron pulled his own folded sheet out from his pocket, smoothing it out and placing it on top.

"Ronald, you applied?"

"I did."

"I'm so proud of you! Harry, hold these..." She practically threw the stack at him, throwing her arms around Ron's neck. "I'm surprised you even tried."

"I figure it's... I might as well, you know?"

"Exactly. Good job, Ron. Now, I'm stopping by the Gryffindor common rooms later tonight to check on a few things, I trust you'll both be in there, away from trouble?"

"Hermione, would it be us if we weren't in trouble?" Harry grinned, adjusting his glasses. Hermione simply rolled her eyes.

"I suppose not. But be careful! I don't want the two of you getting kicked out of school just days before commencement..."

"We'll try!" The statement in unison caused them all to laugh, and minutes later, once Hermione's round about the Owlery was finished, hundreds of owls flew out, each carrying an application to Merlin University. This was the start of an entirely new journey. Everything was changing.


	24. Commencement

**AN: Yes I know, there's a student or two that is actually dead that I haven't killed off for this chapter. One example is Lavender, who they apparently chose to kill off in the film, though she was only 'struggling' in the book. Deal with it. It's inconsequential and for mostly humorous purposes only. This is the longest chapter I've ever written of anything ever, and took me the longest, too. Sorry for not updating here/anywhere else lately. I have limited internet access where I'm staying, and this has been my project. **

* * *

"They'll let you bring the baby?"

"Mhmm. They said they'll let me in on details when they know more, but that it'll work out, in one way or another. They wrote me specifically – I'm the only person who knows they've been accepted so far."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Seamus, I just want to…" Ginny looked at Seamus, who hadn't taken his eyes off of her in the three hours they'd been sitting together on the couch in front of the fire. She suddenly felt nervous under his gaze, and truly appreciated. "I want to say thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you, here. If it were Dean's, I probably wouldn't be able to go to school at all, but you've been so supportive, and I can't thank you enough."

"Don't thank me then. Just accept it. You're the mother of my child, Gin. It's not just duty though, but you… I want to protect you. And be there for you."

She felt herself flush, and snuggled deeper under Seamus' shoulder. She'd never expected this in a million years, but sure as anything, Seamus' handprint was embedded on her stomach, over their child, and he was promising her the world. She'd been accepted into Merlin University, into the school of Liberal Arts and Practical Magic. They had mentioned him in the letter – as the news was somewhat 'out' that Seamus was the father – and hinted that he'd been accepted to. You and the father will be able to share a double dormitory, and can schedule alternating class schedules to adequately care for your child while both attending school. Additional childcare services will be locally available, if needed. She hadn't told him that yet – that he'd made it. She wanted it to be a surprise. Plus, him worrying about getting to be with her was sort of cute, in a way. His fingertips brushed her belly, and she felt her heart swell. This was working. It really was.

* * *

The next three hours would be the most painful of his life. He'd thought that waiting for Luna's graduation test results had been bad. Now, he had to wait three more excruciating hours to see if she made it into Merlin University. The results, either way, would force him to make a big decision. If she made it, Oliver would decide to move in with her, to be with her. They'd decide to give this a real, serious shot. He'd take the job at Merlin and begin his courses in Sports Management and Coaching, and they could live in a double dorm, all to themselves.

If she didn't make it, however, things could get difficult. She'd graduated, so he'd only be able to see her on weekends. Would she stay at her old house? Or move closer to town? Would he be able to visit her? How often? Or would his job make him too busy?

Two hours and fifty minutes to go.

* * *

_Merlin University - Acceptance List_

_Practical Magic and Liberal Arts :_

_Luna Lovegood - Liberal Arts (Journalism/Photojournalism)_

_Oliver Wood - Liberal Arts (Sports Management/Coaching)_

_Hermione Granger - Liberal Arts (Education)(Ancient Runes)_

_Harry Potter - Practical Magic (Defensive Magic and Invention)_

_Ginerva Weasley - Practical Magic (Creative Spellwork)_

_Seamus Finnegan (Magical Effects and Expansion)_

_Magical Maths and Sciences :_

_Draco Malfoy - (Chemist Studies and Potionmaking)_

_Hermione Granger - (Arithmancy)_

_Neville Longbottom - (Herbology and Natural Sciences)_

_Pansy Parkinson - (Chemist Studies and Potionmaking)_

_Blaise Zabini - (Magical Maths, General)_

_Lavender Brown - (Astrology and Astronomy Relations)_

_Government and Regulatory :_

_Draco Malfoy - (Government)_

_Harry Potter - (Government)_

_Hermione Granger - (Regulatory)_

_Ron Weasley - (Government)(Regulatory)_

* * *

He found her just one hallway over, sat up against a wall. She'd been crying, he could tell, though the tears seemed to have stopped recently. She sniffed and wiped her nose on a tissue, crumbling it up and tossing it aside. There were a number of these. Before he could make a slight humorous joke about it or even bother to magic them all away, she looked up at him.

"Why, Neville? I thought I could make it. I thought my problems were all solved. I graduated and everything. But I didn't get accepted into that stupid school with you, so I'm going to be sent back with my parents again and..."

A fresh round of tears started falling. Neville sat beside Heather on the wall, trying to calm her.

"It's not that bad, Heather, you could try and get a job around there - get a little flat or something - and..."

"Neville, you and I both know that isn't going to work. Nobody wants to hire someone who's barely old enough to have graduated Hogwarts. And no job that might hire me at all would be enough to pay for a flat. I'm going to have to go back with my parents. I guess.. it's not so bad. I do get to see the world. I mean... it's terrible, not really having a place to call home. But then, I get to see things most people don't. I think I took that for granted before." She smiled a weak smile and leaned into him. "Thank you for everything this year. You've been good to me."

"Heather, you can't... but I suppose you have to." He sighed, resting his head atop hers. "You've been good to me as well, then. I'm... I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Neville. And I'll write." She stood, helped him hug, and then hugged him tightly, not letting go for a while. When she did, she walked away quickly to avoid him seeing her cry even more.

* * *

He was going to wing it. He had to. He had no other option. Commencement began in forty minutes. And while Hermione and Draco may have had perfectly penned notecards (he had no doubt that Hermione had written Draco's), Harry had nothing. He'd been up most of the night attempting to write his speech, but all that had come out was cliche, boring nonsense. That wasn't him - and that wasn't what people wanted to hear. He needed to give a speech from the heart - the true meaning of facing your fears, stepping forward. After all - the topic was literally written for him.

Hermione was giving a speech on shedding labels, growing up, and being the most brilliant witch of their age - and the social compromises she'd had to make for it. About being bullied, and still becoming one of the most revered young witches of their time.

Between these two, staff would get up and recognize their best students in each department. Special awards to the school would be given.

Then Harry would give his speech - absolutely made up on the spot - about conquering your fears, and conquering your goals, too. Moving on, leaving the war and the bad things behind them. Bringing only the good things with you, and reinventing the rest. It was brilliant, really - it was exactly what he personally wanted to do at University.

Then McGonagall would stand and name out the Commencement Superlative winners - there had been a table sitting outside the Great Hall all week, collecting votes and nominations, and the staff would choose the final winners.

Draco was last - his speech was on opposites. Dark and light, good and evil, and the grey areas between. About his defecting in the war, and why he made that decision, and the immense amount of change - good and bad - that had come from that life-changing decision.

Their speeches were excellent - he'd heard the both of them going over key points that morning over breakfast at their makeshift table. Draco's was honest and a bit interesting, to be honest - he'd had so much as a child, but it wasn't right. He'd had lavish gifts, and somewhat attentive parents, and a large, comfortable home. He'd been promised so many things. But he couldn't take them - because gifts from Voldemort weren't gifts at all. He didn't want to be a Death Eater. He wanted to fight for what was right. So he defected. Hermione's was heartbreaking - talking about struggling through her adolescent years, being made fun of for being smart - but what was so wrong about being smart? She'd briefly touched on hiding behind books and cleverness before wrapping up - and her speech had nearly moved Harry to tears at the breakfast table. He'd had no idea it was that bad, and he was her best friend. This last year had been tough on all of them, but had being Head Girl really been good for her? He vowed then and there to not neglect his friendships at Merlin U like he'd sort of done here over the last year.

But Harry had nothing. Fears. Goals. Moving on. There was so much to say, and yet anything he tried to take note of, it seemed wrong, in some way. He wanted to say everything that had been on his mind over the last year. Everything about starting new, about beginning again. His only problem was being able to come up with things fast enough. And, of course, not vomiting all over the podium from stage fright.

* * *

Commencement began in four hours, and yet he hadn't seen Luna. He'd expected, with the news coming from Merlin, that she'd have rushed straight to his office last night. A thought struck him suddenly - what if she hadn't checked it? That's what she'd done for the Graduation list - she'd been so afraid of not making it that she hadn't even gotten close enough to see. Oliver poked his head out of his office and called out to a first year scampering around the halls.

"Oi! You there!"

The boy stopped dead in his tracks, looking a little like a deer in headlights.

"I have a message to deliver. Can you do that for me?" The boy nodded and came closer. He could recognize him now - his name was Michael, he was a Ravenclaw. He rushed off a note requesting to Luna that she come to his office at once, and stuffed the note in the boy's hand.

"Perfect. Thanks. Ten points to Ravenclaw. Hurry on!" Michael was out of his office instantly, and in a matter of minutes, Luna had replaced him.

'"Oliver, I..."

"Have you checked?"

"No."

He laughed then, a big laugh straight from his chest. "Luna, my love, you have to stop being so scared! You'd have to find out eventually anyway. What, how were you going to know?" He was grinning, she wasn't.

"I don't know. Perhaps just wait for a welcome letter - or not."

His shoulders fell. She hadn't looked. She was too afraid.

"What's scaring you so much, Luna? No matter what happens after this, we can be together. We may see each other less, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't fly or apparate or walk to wherever you are, every weekend if I had to."

"But you'll be busy, of course. No matter what job you stay with. So maybe it'll be every weekend at first, but that could slow down to once a month, and then not at all, and..."

Her wide blue eyes were wet, she was on the brink of tears. He crossed the distance between them quickly, wrapping her in his arms.

"You're joking, right? Luna, I love you! You know that! You've got to have enough faith in me." His accent got stronger as he got excited, and he let her go to nearly run back to his desk, snatching up a piece of paper. She eyed him curiously, but said nothing as he handed it to her, smiling. "And in yourself."

It was a dormitory rental agreement. A housing request. For Merlin University. She eyed the checked boxes - double apartment, Liberal Arts and Practical Magic building. Full year rental. Rent paid by faculty allowances. Under the "Occupants" heading, there were two names: Oliver Wood, and Luna Lovegood.

"Oliver, I..." He simply stepped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Luna, there was nothing to be afraid of all along. See?"

Before he could wait for a response, she'd tossed the paper onto the floor, spun around in his arms, and kissed him square on the mouth. Her hands were in his hair and there were fresh tears on her cheeks - though, he figured they were probably happy ones. This was it. They had more than a chance - they had everything they could have asked for. He'd be teaching and studying at Merlin University, where she would also be a student. They'd made it into the same schools, so they could live in the same hall - the same dormitory, at that. No weekend visits, no planning around busy schedules - they'd see each other every day for the next year. And possibly - if this feeling deep in their hearts was what they believed it to be - every day for the rest of their lives.

* * *

Twelve minutes to go. And he'd already vomited in a trashbin from nerves. Twice.

The rest of the students had been lined up alphabetically, as they'd been for sorting. Harry looked at the row of them, trying to remember what most of them had looked like eight years ago. Hannah Abbott had been first to sit on that stool, to be sorted. And now she'd be the first to be called across the stage, to graduate from Hogwarts. This was it - the culmination of eight years, of the war and the good times, of friendships and enemies, love and hate. Merlin, was it all really over? Was this is? They were done at Hogwarts? For good? How long would it be before he would see this place again? The only place he knew well enough - besides the Burrow, perhaps - to call home? And the changes that had happened this year - growing up, Pansy, new alliances, - had they really done enough? To set this group of people up for the rest of their lives?

He had to stop thinking so much. He still had to wing his speech - no amount of frazzled note taking was going to produce what he wanted - and if he didn't stop letting all of this get to him right now, he'd faint on the spot. There were only a dozen or so students not in line - himself and the other two speech givers, plus a number of those that were getting special awards from the school. They sat in groups in the Great Hall, waiting for the line to file outside, for their names to be called. While Flitwick gave a little speech about what they'd all gone through, McGonagall would come back and retrieve this group from the castle, and walk them all over to the scene. The students and staff were all dressed to the nines in dress robes or suits or gowns, and a graduation cap sat atop each student's head.

They'd set up rows and rows of white chairs - each with delicate gold bells hanging from both corners of the back of the seat. Hagrid, naturally, had an enlarged chair in the back, and had very clear instructions this time about where he was supposed to sit. There hadn't been enough chairs - family, friends, townspeople from Hogsmeade, admirers, war heroes - it seemed that everyone even remotely involved in their last eight years had shown up. People had been showing up since breakfast that morning, trying to get the best seats behind where the graduates sat. They'd needed to triple the expected seating, and anyone speaking had to use sonorous to be heard in the back. Harry had glanced out at it just after lunch. The ceremony would take place as the sun set over the lake behind the temporary stage set up by the water's edge. McGonagall had planned the entire thing herself, without help of any outside kind. She'd rented the tents and tables for their dinner party, she'd planned the menu to be prepared in their own kitchens, she'd done it all. The only people helping that weren't Hogwarts staff, were the crew of people that would be transforming the Great Hall into a suitable place for a grand Commencement Ball.

Seven minutes. The line filed out, and one by one Harry watches his classmates, friends, acquaintances, his other family at this magnificent home, as they disappeared out through the door, through the Entrance Hall, and out onto the greens.

The remaining bunch - Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Draco, Ginny, Luna, Dean, Seamus, the Patil twins, Pansy and Blaise - sat close together at the end of the Ravenclaw table, silent. Nobody could think of anything to say, nothing that would help ease the tension and sadness that sat beside them all like beloved friends at dinner. It was Hermione who finally stood, tears were already on her cheeks. With two minutes left, she spoke.

"It's... it's been great. Thank you. All of you." She broke into tears and Draco stood next, comforting her but not saying a word. His only other distinguishable action was an obvious nod to Harry, and the boys smiled at each other briefly before looking away. Things were changing, even there. Draco had become something of a friend, since Harry had seen how happy he made Hermione. Ron smiled, leaning slightly against Harry's arm. They'd been best mates since that fateful first day, entering the platform and boarding the Hogwarts Express. Ron had explained to him nearly everything he knew about the Wizarding World - he'd have been lost without him. He pulled Ron up, and, hugging his truest friend in the world, began to cry. Soon enough the Patil twins were openly sobbing, their cries sounding identical. Ginny was weeping, and Seamus had his arm around her, whispering comforting words into her ear, promises. If Harry could have chosen anyone to take care of Ginny, it probably wasn't accident prone Seamus, but it had been Seamus who had done the best job after all. He'd grown a lot in the last year - especially since he'd gotten the news that he was about to become a father. Dean tapped on his shoulder, and that set of best friends hugged as well. Even Pansy shook hands with Draco, Harry, and the rest of them. Blaise sat back and acted unaffected - though the single tear that dampened his dark cheeks gave him away instantly. He was just as torn up about leaving this place as the rest of them were.

"Abbott, Hannah!" The list began. As the list of students dwindled down, the little group in the hall became deathly quiet. Three of them were mentally preparing for speeches, ten of them were waiting to see what award had been bestowed upon them. Three of them were best friends, three of them former enemies, two of them were identical, seven were boys, six were girls. Eight were Gryffindor, Two were Ravenclaw, Three were Slytherin. All of them were terrified, all of them were hopeful, and all of them had extremely high hopes for their futures.

* * *

McGonagall entered, motioning for them all to follow her. Words had failed - she had cried her eyes out through the entire walk over. Not only had she just said goodbye to a year and a half's worth of students, but she was now retrieving a group she found to be most special. A group that had fought in a war, something that other children their age in the world couldn't even dream of. A group that had formed bonds and broken them, changed sides and defeated evil. A group that had changed her, personally, as an educator. Gods, she was going to despise next year's group. There was no other group of students like that assembled here.

As they rounded the corner and approached the stage, the last of the names were being read off by Professor Flitwick. He glanced in her direction and nodded, reading the last two and handing them their diplomas. For them, it was over - there was only a celebration. For the students behind her, it was not yet complete - and maybe it would never be over. The scars and memories they'd acquired over the years had been enough to alter them permanently, - and hopefully, for the better.

Professor Flitwick climbed up onto a stool set behind the podium for him. The thirteen students that had just arrived took their seats in the front row, the fourteenth seat taken by McGonagall herself.

"Family, Friends, and Esteemed Guests - welcome." The crowd let out a round of applause, and Flitwick smiled. "Welcome to the commencement ceremony for the nineteen ninety-nine class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You may notice an excessively large class - and students of two different years - have crossed the stage today, to your applause. This change, along with many others, was just one of the affects of the War - and one of the smallest, indeed. Students who should have graduated last year were asked to return for an unprecedented Eighth Year - a year to return and receive the education they missed in the absence of a proper teaching staff and curriculum last year. Hogwarts last year, was not our home - it was a prison. Students did not receive an education, but punishment and beatings - things no child should have to endure as they did. As such, every student in every year was asked to return and repeat what they were supposed to learn last year - a decision that did not immediately go over well, but has appeared to have made all the difference.

"The students in front of you today, sitting in rows of seats, dressed to the nines, are here for one reason - they've studied, they've made friends, they've worked hard over the last seven or eight years, gaining new information and tools that they will take from this place and use out in the world, in their chosen professions, for the rest of their lives. It sounds a little cliche - I'm aware. But if you asked me how many times since my commencement - and it's been decades - that I've had to brew a potion to revive someone who was unconscious? Or that I've used a charm to wash and dry my clothes when I had no time for laundry? Well, I do care for these students in front of you, and they are a handful - I've used both plenty. Your students have learned things that will be useful to them every day, every month, every year, until they're as old and grey as the rest of us.

"But it's what they learned outside the classroom that makes this group special. This group of students was faced with War - something terrifying, life changing, and potentiall y life ending. Friends, family, colleagues were lost - and with no chance of ever getting them back. These students took part in battles, organized rebellions, stunned Death Eaters, made alliances, and ultimately did whatever it took to fight for what they believed to be right. In the end, some opinions changed - the children of Death Eaters fought to defend us and Hogwarts, our home. Some fled, some fought, and everyone was changed - forever."

There was a brief pause for thunderous applause, and Flitwick was grinning wider than McGonagall had ever seen - and she'd known the man for quite some time. He would conclude his speech, and then the real tearjerkers began.

"I would like to formally present to you the Hogwarts School class of nineteen ninety-nine: a class unlike any other. It is through their contributions, their struggles, and the fight in their hearts, that this class of students learned more than any class before them. I've had a pleasure teaching each and every one of them throughout the years, and they deserve more than applause, and candy, and flowers - they deserve our utmost gratitude and thanks, and that, they shall receive." He nodded and thanked the audience, then the students, stepping down from his speech. The stunned looks on the students in her row - and the tears, out of many of them - told McGonagall that none of them had ever heard a speech from anyone quite like the one they'd just heard - and it was all about them. Harry was staring into his lap, tears falling freely. This must be especially hard on he, who had never had a real home before Hogwarts. McGonagall stood, taking to the stage again.

* * *

Harry could hardly breathe.

"I'd like to welcome our first speaker, graduate, and award recipient - Hermione Granger." Hermione stood and stepped onto the stage, looking absolutely breathtaking in a sweeping gown of pale gold that shimmered and swayed in the sun and the slight breeze. It was sunset it Scotland - it lasted what seemed like ages, and took hours to actually happen, perfect for the ceremony. She lit up the whole stage, the whole area - and the smile lighting up Draco's face, upon Harry's glance, told him that Draco appreciated it more than anything. Her hair was twisted up into some sort of complicated thing Harry couldn't begin to describe. She looked beautiful - the only time Harry had seen her looking more beautiful and more herself was perhaps on Christmas Eve night the year previous, after they'd nearly lost their lives and they'd returned to their tent, exhausted. There had been a moment, a few minutes later, after everything had quieted down. She was wearing just jeans and a sweater, nothing special, but her curly hair fell around her face just right, and her lips, rosy from the change into the warm tent, were muttering something to herself. He remembered it clear as day - she looked just as scared then as she did now, but both times, she was smiling.

"Hermione is receiving an award for Special Services to the School, for her efforts in the war and her contributions to her fellow students. She has served as Head Girl this year, as a prefect in years previous, and a helping hand in studies and otherwise to those who have simply asked for help when needed." McGonagall handed Hermione a small plaque, and then - after a moment of seemingly resisting - pulled the girl into a hug. Harry smiled, applauding with everyone else. Hermione took to the podium, cheeks flushed, a slight smile on her lips.

"Sonorous. Welcome, everyone, to this year's commencement ceremony. Headmistress McGonagall chose myself and two other students to deliver speeches on what we've learned, on obstacles we've faced, and on challenges we've overcome. She chose us, especially, because we have stories to tell. We have secrets to reveal. We have sides of ourselves that need to be seen. She suggested to me that I give my speech on intelligence - on using it properly, and for the right reasons. With notable changes, I accepted the prompt whole-heartedly - and any student in this audience can tell you that if there's a speech to be given about being a shy, modest, bookworm - I'm the one to give it."

There were laughs and a few shouts of approval - Hermione laughed gently, and cleared her throat. "But there's a downside to all of this - a side that many of you may not have noticed, or may have noticed but not said anything at all. Being the best at something - at anything - always comes with a price. Being the best at sports invites envy, competition, and exhaustion. Being the best at being 'cool' invites envy, competition, and exhaustion - do you see a theme?" The audience was silent. Hermione was doing what Harry had always known she was best at - getting people to see sides of things they hadn't taken the time to think of before.

"Being the brightest witch of my age, as I've been called, has invited the same negative things into my life and more. Other intelligent students disliked me for my advantages over them and my triumphs. Students below my grade average - and let's face it, a great number of people were - made snide comments and made assumptions about me based on things they'd only heard or guessed about me. Students groaned when I answered a question in History of Magic - not because I was answering, but because I was the only one neurotic enough to have memorized Hogwarts: A History." There was another smattering of laughter - everyone knew that was her favorite book, her copy was nearly frayed. "But despite bullying, despite a little unkindness from those who didn't know me or didn't understand that what I had was not an uncommon mind or a freakishly good memory, but a passion for learning - despite those who didn't know, there were those that did. And they made all the difference.

"I grew up differently than most of you - being a muggle-born in this era meant a lot of prejudice, if not always correctly warranted. I didn't know anything about this world until I was eleven years old, and Dumbledore himself - rest his soul - landed on my front doorstep and told my parents that all of those weird things I'd been able to do as a child, happened because I was a witch. I can still picture their faces - A what? - to this day, they're bewildered by everything that goes on in this world - it's entirely different from the muggle world. Switching from my muggle grade school to Hogwarts? Was like switching planets. I had no idea what to do or who to befriend, and even from the beginning, people taunted me. Some of those people made it up to me - saving my life from a full-grown mountain troll, one good example - and they learned that thing that makes me who I am - that my passion for learning, that my ability to hide behind large books - was alright. That was just how I dealt with things. Problem? Look it up in a book. A lesson to be learned? Probably found in a book. A particularly stressful week? A bad round of name-calling? Books, books, books.

"But it is this quality about myself that I wish to change most. We've all done more than a bit of growing up, and while we still have lots to learn, I think that I've learned all that I can from books. I'm putting the book down, leaving the library, so to speak. I'm leaving in the fall for Merlin University, both as a student and as the youngest professor on staff, and I fully intend to shed my bookworm title, and to really enjoy being young for once. We've all grown up, but perhaps I was a little too grown-up to begin with. Perhaps it's time to be a little childish, to celebrate the accomplishments we've already made and the ones we will continue to make for the rest of our lives. Class of ninety-nine, I want to thank you all, from the bottom of my heart - not for the name calling or the harsh words, but for making it up to me - the harmless teasing, the compliments, high-fives. For the friendship, for the fighting, for standing beside me and everyone else here, in this very place last year, and using our own smarts and memorized spells to conquer evil and to bring a new dawn of acceptance into our world. I am Hermione Granger - I am a girl, a bookworm, a muggle-born witch, and a graduate from Hogwarts School. Thank you."

Harry had never heard such applause - from the parents, the students, the staff. He hadn't heard this much adoration since he'd defeated Voldemort. Hermione broke into tears as she resumed her seat, dried her eyes, and flicked her wand at her face, drying her cheeks and repairing her ruined makeup. Draco held her hand and kissed her cheek, and Harry could vaguely hear Draco telling her how proud he was over the diminishing applause. McGonagall had risen from her seat on the side of the stage, wiping her own eyes, and stood behind the podium.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, for that... from the bottom of my own heart, I thank you. We could all use to learn a little from what we've just heard. And now, the staff will rise, and give recognition to the best male and female student in their subjects."

The minor subjects passed quickly - History of Magic, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures (from which Hagrid had to stumble from the back of the crowd, be careful to not step on and crush the stage, and call out loudly his two nominees), and Charms. As a student was called up for an award, if they were part of the thirteen who had come in the second group, they were handed their diploma. The next group of professors stood and began calling names. Dean, Pansy, and Blaise had been called in the last group. Oliver went up first.

"Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood - for always erring on the side of good, and never ever being selfish in the years I've known them. For excellent dueling and spellwork and, in Luna's case, a nasty Leg Locking jinx that had me stuck solid in my office for nearly an hour one night." He put medals over both of their necks, Luna in a pale blue gown and Harry in a crisp black suit. Oliver patted Harry's shoulder and kissed Luna on the cheek in front of everyone there, and they both blushed. They sat again, and Slughorn stood.

"Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy - for always brewing potions at perfect or better quality, in half the time." They got medals as well. Sprout was next.

"Neville Longbottom and Padma Patil - though Herbology was far from her chosen subject, she handled plants better than any female in many years, and Neville - who has such a passion for Herbology, and really excels at it." She smiled and hugged them both tightly before bestowing their medals.

"Transfiguration?" McGonagall beckoned to Hermione, who quickly took the stairs, laughing.

"I forgot I've been teaching all this time. Just one more thing to add to my resume, I guess. Let's see, I'm remembering who we'd chosen...ah, yes. I un-nominate myself, personal choice, and would like to award Parvati Patil and Seamus Finnegan - she's never taken more than three tries on anything, and when Seamus isn't blowing things up - which we all know is fairly often - he's actually really got an eye for detail."

Friends of Seamus and classmates laughed and called out to him as he bustled up next to Parvati and they got medals Hermione accio'd from offstage.

The Muggle Studies professor was last to step up, and meekly said into the microphone, "Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger - for knowing as much about telephones, televisions, and telemarketers as I did." She grinned and gave them both a medal - one Ron was surprised to have received - and then the class awards were done.

McGonagall stood again. "Before our next speaker, we have special awards to the school. I'd like to call on Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginerva Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom first." The six ascended the stage. "This first award is for their efforts in the battle at the Department of Mysteries - six school age children took on a team of Death Eaters, and survived - not an easy feat. For this I award you each a Special Award from Hogwarts." She quieted herself momentarily and briefly explained that their awards would all be listed on one plaque, and would fill themselves in as they were announced. She sent them back to their seats and prepared the next.

"I'd like to next give awards to a large number of students - please stay in your seats for this one, as we won't all fit on stage." She smiled and called the names of nearly half of the graduating class. After applause, she spoke again.

"These students are being recognized for their fighting in the final battle in the war. Their bravery and dedication will go down in Hogwarts history - and likely, in Hogwarts: A History." The crowd chuckled and applauded. It was time for the next speech.

Harry was nearly frozen. Shit. He hadn't written one. And he'd intended on trying to think of one this whole time. And yet, he'd been so wrapped up in the ceremony that he hadn't done anything. He vaguely heard McGonagall calling him up to the stage, somewhat felt himself shuffling up onstage to thunderous applause and shouts - and screams, in a few instances. He found himself behind the podium, staring out at a sea of waiting faces, before he finally came into clarity.

"Hi. Um, McGonagall and I sort of worked out something for me to write my speech about, and it's a good prompt - but... I didn't write one. Kind of reflective of my time here - not writing my papers, having to ask - who else - Hermione... and yet, I think I'm fine. I'll wing it - but that's because everything I tried writing down sounded so cliche, so much like things we've all heard over and over again over the last year. We know - we're brave. Evil is bad, we are good. Fight on. Cherish those we lost. Etcetera. We know all that. We'll always know that. That's not special to us, as a class - as a unified body of students, of friends.

"The Dark Lord - Voldemort - he had it all wrong. His idea was to conquer that which he believed to be smaller than him - inferior. Less important. He believed that by annihilating everything that he found to be lesser than himself, that he would prevail. That he would succeed. I know - I was stuck inside his brain for a number of years, so to speak, and his thoughts always confused me. It wasn't until recently that I've made the ultimate realization - as a rising dictator, he did everything fine. He raised an army. Staged a rebellion. Murdered. Took over the government. Scared the life out of half of us. But what Voldemort didn't see was that this wasn't the way to win - something we saw all along. It's not that which is smaller than us that we must face - but that larger than us, larger than this whole group sitting here today. It's those things that are infinitely larger and seemingly impossible that we must fight. It is our goals, and our fears, that we should conquer.

"You can tear a hundred books in half, but you'll never destroy the purpose - to learn. You can murder a hundred people, but you'll never kill their dreams and their own purposes - to love, to care. He had it wrong the whole time! And it was that that killed him. His inability to see that he was wrong, that he had been after the wrong goals the whole time. That, and a well placed disarming spell and a bit of raw luck." Harry grinned, and the crowd laughed with him. This was not where he'd intended the speech to go at all, but it was real and it was honest - it was more than he'd hoped for.

"This is a lesson I wish I would have learned long ago - and one that I'll now hold close. It's not about tackling the essay due Thursday or being better than someone else at it - it's about learning the most from it, and giving it your best shot - and most of the time, your best shot is better than just 'good enough' - it's more than enough! It's all you need! If I'd have learned in my first year that a little dedication and elbow grease was all I needed to succeed, I'd be giving the bookworm speech myself! Instead, I got half as many NEWTs as I should have and for what? Who cares! I mean, not who cares, that sounds bad... younger students, please, get as many NEWTs as you can... but it's the effort! If you make the effort, even if you don't do as well as you'd wished, you'll feel so... so great about yourself. It's not about what you do, or what you defeat, but why, and how. I defeated Voldemort with a lot of heart, a little effort, and nearly a year scouring Europe for clues. I did it not because it was my Destiny, not because it was due next week or I'd fail the class, but because it was right, and because I believed in it. I think part of me always did.

"In our past seven or eight years at Hogwarts, we've made friends and enemies, good times and bad, and changed things about ourselves for the better or worse, for whatever reason. Our next move is this - to take the good, to take the lessons - to remember that standing up to our fears and goals is good - and take those with you. Pack them up in your trunk, in your heart, and bring them with you wherever you're going - to jobs, to Merlin U, to whatever part of the continent you reside in. Take the good and let go of the bad - you don't need it! You may be ticked off because your friend irritated you last week, and so what? You've probably irritated them too, but you're friends for a reason, right? So leave the bad behind, remember all the good times you've had. And apply that to everything in your life.

"I'm going to Merlin University in the Fall to study Government - it's generally known that I would have made a good Auror, but the position isn't nearly as epic as it was a year ago. I'm thinking bigger, now. I'm thinking maybe Minister for Magic. And in this move, I'm taking the good things - my friends, the lessons I've learned, the confidence I've attained in my success - and leaving the rest - the mourning, the anger, the betrayal, the worry - I'm leaving all of that behind. And I'm going to reinvent the rest. We've all been affected by the war, but it's time to start a new age - free from fear and doubt. Class of ninety-nine, I want to thank you - for the good and the bad. On either side, it's made us all grow as people and as students. Some of you I'll be seeing in a few months at University, the rest, I know we'll meet again some day. And we'll greet each other warmly as friends, having left the bad behind us. Thanks."

The shouts and cheering from the crowd let Harry know he'd done well. He began to tear up as soon as he sat down again, and held his head in his hands. Ron patted his back and Hermione left her seat to kneel beside him, telling him how wonderfully he'd done. This was all he cared about - all he needed. His friends, warm words, and a job well done. This was it.

Draco was a flurry of nerves. As far as he was concerned, most of the people in this crowd still hated him because of his last name. Perhaps he'd change it after the war. He didn't look that much like his father. McGonagall stood, crying after Harry's speech. He'd had to admit, for Potter not having written anything at all, he'd done decently well. His own speech was a half his writing, half Hermione's - half good and half bad. It was fitting, and would work in nicely with what Harry had just said. He just hoped people could be unbiased enough to listen for a little while. News of his family defecting after the war was widespread, but not everyone knew and not everyone believed. He had secretly thrown in a bit about himself and Hermione after she'd edited it - she wouldn't hear it until just now - and he hoped that would show them that he'd changed enough to win the heart of the Gryffindor Princess, a member of the Golden Trio. It was all he could hope for. McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Sonorous. Thank you, Mister Potter... 'winging it' was always a hobby of yours, even at the most important moments, and your courage and effort are what helped you deliver a wonderful speech. Thank you. Next I'd like to finish my portion of the ceremony with what is perhaps my favorite part - Commencement Superlatives. For the last seven days, a table has been set out outside of our Great Hall, and students have been able to nominate or vote for their classmates in a variety of categories - some very basic, and some quite specific. We've chosen the students that we feel fit best in each category, and included a few unusual submissions that we found entertaining or well-deserved. We'll start with the basics and move on. Students as you are called, please stand and wave, distinguishing yourself.

"For 'Most Intelligent', the students have elected - no surprise here - Miss Hermione Granger of Gryffindor."

"For 'Most Changed', Draco Malfoy of Slytherin." Hearing his own name called shocked him awake. Most Changed? Perhaps people really were seeing his differences.

"For 'Most Humorous', Ronald Weasley." Ron stood just a few seats from him, grinning like a madman. If there was one thing he'd come to enjoy about Ron, it was that he was indeed funny.

"For 'Biggest Gossip', no surprise here either, Lavender Brown."

"For 'Most Friendly', Luna Lovegood."

"For 'Most Eccentric' also, Luna Lovegood."

"For 'Most Accomplished', Harry Potter - well deserved, that is."

"For 'Most Athletic', Ron Weasley. Well played. Excellent Keeper..."

"And now we begin a few oddities. These were my favorites of any year before, and a few of them made me laugh so hard I... well, we'll get into that another day."

"For 'Most Hair Products', Draco Malfoy." He stood, begrudgingly this time, as a few people cheered. It wasn't that much gel.

"For 'Most Identical', Padma and Parvati Patil." The twins stood, laughing, and wore identical smiles behind identical waves.

"For 'Oddest Scar', Harry Potter."

"For 'Most Interesting', Luna Lovegood."

"For 'Most Grown Up', Neville Longbottom. He was also our runner-up for Most Changed."

"For 'Most Embarrassing Public Blunder, Hermione Granger - foSr the teeth-growing incident, and shrink afterwards." Hermione laughed and accepted it with grace - and Draco shook his head. Hadn't he been the cause of that one? Excellent..."

"For 'Most Ferret-y, Draco Malfoy." The wave of laughter that passed over was delicious. He remembered that day clearly, and exactly what it had been like as a ferret for a few moments - terrible.

"For 'Most Colorful Name, Lavender Brown."

"For 'Most Colorful Language, Ron Weasley." Ron went Scarlet and seemed to glance in Mrs. Weasley's direction nervously.

"And lastly, but certainly not least, for 'Most Likely To Blow Himself Up', Mister Seamus Finnegan." This elicited an uproar of laughter as Seamus, red in the face but smiling, stood and waved. "Seamus managed to light his hair or eyebrows on fire at least once per year since he arrived here, and has caused more explosions than every other student in his class combined. Well done. Consider going into Pyrotechnics."

Seamus sat and the crowd went still again. Draco knew this was his moment - he could change their minds about him, or he could deliver a meaningless speech they wouldn't pay attention to. He'd have to open well. She called his name, announced his status as Head Boy (causing many whispers, which Draco took as a good thing), and moved aside. He took her place..

"Friends, family, Press photographers - my Right side is my best side - and staff, strangers, and former enemies. Hello, and thank you for not booing me off the stage before I even hit the top step. Being chosen to deliver a speech today is probably one of the most frightening things I've witnessed in my life - and that's a lot, coming from the son of two former Death Eaters. I've seen things in my day that would scare the pants off the most fearless Auror, the most untouchable minds, and it was seen as commonplace among those... people. That used to be the only way of life I knew. I didn't understand other sides. I thought that the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord were 'right', and that was all there was to it. In the last year, I've learned something - that there is an opposite side to everything. I was stuck in the dark for so long, that I didn't know what it was like to be bathed in light.

"Since my family defected, my eyes have opened. I not only see the light, but feel it on my skin. Perhaps one day I'll get a little tan - it's unlikely." He smiled, and Hermione laughed loudly enough in the front row for everyone to take notice. She looked stunning, he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life as this pale gold creature in front of him. She'd know soon enough just what she meant to him.

"In the year since I've learned one good lesson that I'll take with me - and that is that of the two sides to everything, each is equal. Light and dark, good and evil, right and wrong. For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction - learned that in Potions - and as such for every dirty deed I've done before, I intend on rectifying it with good. There have been grey areas in between for all of us - for me, it was the heartbreaking decision to join my family and flee instead of stay and fight in this war, defending Hogwarts and a student body that would hate me no matter what I did. It's still there, in my selfish desire to succeed that sometimes gets in the way of letting me care about other people - except for one. And it is she that has made all the difference." He saw Hermione's jaw drop and face go white. This wasn't in the cards - he could practically hear her say it in her head. He grinned at her and shook his head.

"I made the decision to defect after the war because it seemed safe. I made the decision to come back to Hogwarts and face you as a student body - and the opinions of your family and friends, and the general public - because I knew it was what I had to do. My only fear was of rejection. And yet, our Headmistress wrote me before the school year began, before anyone else knew about this Eighth Year, and told me everything - and expressed her wish that I come back, not only as a student, but as Head Boy. In order to succeed. In order to prove myself. And I did just that. And it has made a world of difference, that has. I've made friends - friends outside of the Slytherin Dungeons. My grades are at an all-time high. I enjoy what I'm learning. I've enjoyed the House Tournament. I've enjoyed leading, learning, and loving with and from those around me. I lost a lifetime of a support system, but who wants support from Death Eaters? Lousy arseholes, if you ask me." The crowd gasped and he could see McGonagall shaking her head from the corner of his eye. Had he really just said that? He glanced at his notes and tucked them into his pocket. He knew enough of the rest.

"The decision to cross over into the light has changed my life - and has changed me as a person. It has opened up new ideas, new truths, and new possibilities. It has given me the courage, the opportunities, and the tools I needed to grow, and learn, and to take back what is mine - the feeling of doing what is right. But you know what? High grades, and book smarts, and public approval? Not high on my list of goals, really. I only wrote myself one goal this year, and it was simple - to find a friend. A real, true, good friend. And I've found more than that. Being Head Students has pushed us together, though we resisted - vehemently - at first. We despised each other going into this. But as the months passed and our proximity to each other didn't change, our feelings did. We morphed quickly from enemies, to casual acquaintances, to friends, to much more. Hermione Granger, you have changed me, for the better. More than switching sides. More than pep talks and a warm feeling inside. Your kindness, your encouragement, and your warm hand in mine has made all the difference in me." Hermione was standing now, though he doubted she'd done it consciously. Her jaw was relaxed, her lips slightly parted, eyes wide. She was stepping towards him slowly as he finished this unexpected part of his speech.

"Sometimes, ladies and gentlemen, staff and students, all it takes to change you is a little bit of love - something I've been feeling for a time now, and haven't had the guts to confess. This girl here, in the gold gown, staring up at me - I'm going to ask her to move in with me at Merlin University, come fall. I'm going to ask her to stay with me, despite what a number of you might think. Because you know what? Your old biases about me, about my feelings - they're irrelevant. I am not a Malfoy, I do not belong in that category. I'm just Draco, and she's just... she's Hermione, and she's everything."

The crowd filled with excited whispers - while the students were all in awe, some giggling or squealing as Draco professed these feelings, the parents were admiring every bit of him. Every change, every flaw, was taken in and accepted by the crowd - more than Draco had hoped for, and now less and less what he actually cared about.

"Hermione, I've been feeling this way for a very long time now - perhaps since before this year, even. I was just so afraid, and... you've given me courage. A lion's courage. I love you."

He'd never said the words to her before, despite a nagging sense that they'd been feeling it all along. Parents clapped, students cheered, and Hermione ran up the steps in her heels and gown, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him close. She pulled away after a moment and ran down the stairs, shouting back at him.

"I love you too, Draco! I do! And yes, yes I'll dorm with you! I'd spend every second with you!" The applause was deafening, perhaps the loudest of the night. The sun was just starting to cross over the forbidden forest, it was seven and there was still two hours of sun, and Draco had just one last thing to say.

"To the students, for accepting my changes and encouraging the new me. For the public out there, for whatever changed opinions you may have. For Harry Potter - light shines from his every orifice, it does - for saving all our lives. For the staff, for trusting in me. And lastly, to Minerva McGonagall - the woman who wrote that letter and made me take that first step into the light. It all started with that letter."

The cheering grew louder still, and then died away as he returned to his seat and McGonagall stood at the Podium once more, now openly sobbing.

"Th-thank you, to our wonderful speakers, and to... to you, students. My first year as Headmistress was a riot, and you had me laughing the whole way through. Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to present to you once more the Hogwarts School class of nineteen ninety-nine - the best class of students I've seen in all my years." The students flipped their tassels, tossed their caps, and cheered, and the guests - worn from the afternoon of voicing their approval - clapped loudly, calling out the names of their children or siblings or friends or whoever. Draco took one last look at the crowd before turning back to his girlfriend, to Hermione, and kissing her full on the mouth, in front of everyone. If being on the good side had felt this good, he'd been an idiot to wait so long to switch sides.

* * *

After a magical reception of dining on the finest foods and beverages, desserts and entrees, the graduating class said their farewell to their families, promising to see them when they got off the Hogwarts Express in a few days time. Girls fixed their dressed, changed into heels, re-did their makeup and hair. Boys straightened their jacket, buttoned buttons that had come undone, and brushed their hair through, in some (but not all) cases. The ball began thirty minutes after dinner commenced, just long enough for everyone to freshen up and for staff to make the proper adjustments before the students arrived.

Minerva was exhausted - not physically, but emotionally. She'd seen some of the strangest but most heartfelt speeches, given awards for things she'd never thought she'd award a student for. She'd cried more than she ever thought possible. Wasn't she supposed to be the strong one in times like these? The fearless leader? Fearless, however, was fitting - she did not doubt the abilities of a single student in this year's class. Even Finnegan and Weasley seemed to have smarted up enough to be accepted into University. Harry had made up his speech on the spot, and yet he'd put out the most honest display of fear and change she'd seen since Draco. Hermione had been eloquent at the very least, inspiring for sure. The admiration and adoration of the crowd towards the speeches was undeniable, and she was suddenly pleased with herself for picking the best mix - and for including Draco, who deserved it most of all.

The band tuned up, the streamers seemed to flutter from every direction, the Great Hall was dimmed down into the dark, and enchanted candles and colored lanterns adorned the walls. The ceiling reflected the clear, starry night sky outside. There was a table with punch - likely to be spiked within twenty minutes, though everyone being of age meant there was nothing to be done to stop it. Not that she really would have tried, anyway. Let them party. It was their last official school function. They'd have two days to pack up their things and say their goodbyes, and then they'd board the Hogwarts express for the last time, heading out into the world. A little firewhiskey in the punch wouldn't kill them.

She personally requested that the band play a few of the student's favorite songs, including a slow song or two towards the end - give the last of them the courage to dance with someone they'd always fancied. Head Girl and Head Boy would start the dancing off - and what a perfect pair to do so - and then the festivities would begin. There were students waiting outside the door already, chattering on about their summer plans, or their fall plans, or their plans for that night. The results of the Hogwarts Tournament would be revealed early to them, and then to the younger students at the End of Term Feast - though she doubted the news would stay a secret that long.

The minute hand on the clock reached twelve - it was now nine o'clock, and the ball would last until the students decided themselves to go up to bed. She walked to the doors, announced the beginning of the ball, and sat back in a chair she'd placed in a corner, welcoming the relief that swelled over her. She'd done her job pretty well, if she could say so herself.

* * *

The students were jumping, the band was thrashing around wildly, and rock music filled the hall. Draco held Hermione's hand in the back of the room, watching over everyone. She'd been especially quiet that night, even during dinner while everyone at their table was gabbing loudly and squealing about their summer plans. So-and-so was visiting Prague until July. This family and that family were going to Rome together. And though he'd spent nearly every waking moment with Hermione over the last few months, he had no idea where she was going. A panic overtook him - what if he didn't see her all summer? She'd just told him she loved him too, she'd just agreed to move in with him, but where would they be in the mean time?

"So, are you... going back with your parents? Or what?"

"I was thinking about that earlier. I don't think I will. The ministry gave the three of us a good sum of money after the war... I haven't spent a knut of it, it's all in a savings account. I think it's time for me to be out of my parents house. I love them and all I want is to protect them, but... I'd be leaving again soon anyway. I think I'll get a flat somewhere in London."

"Oh."

The tension in the last statement was nearly tangible - so she was going to get a flat in muggle London. But where would he...

"You're welcome to join me, if that's what you're so worried about." The coy smirk on her face drove him mad. Oh. That fixed things. And from the way she said it, he had a feeling she'd intended to do so all along.

"I will. I have money, I can... yes. A little flat in London, just for us."

"A lot of people are doing it, supposedly. Staying out on their own for a while. Harry's doing it, he and I thought about trying to rent in the same building... if you wouldn't mind."

"I don't think I would. Potter's not so bad after all."

"His speech was fantastic... I wanted to scold him for not writing one ahead of time, but he really said everything pretty well."

"Got a little glimpse into his mind. He's not so excessively terrible."

Hermione rolled her eyes, pulling Draco's hand as the band finished up with the last of their faster songs. They'd play a few slow ones, and then a few more, trickling out through the night as the students did. It was nearly two in the morning, most of them had been up since quiet early. The punch bowl had been spiked. Nobody had gotten too crazy, but it was a little strange to see all of their classmates in their fanciest apparel, swaying slightly as they walked or talking too loudly. It would be a set of interesting last memories. Hermione pulled Draco into nearly the center of the floor. They'd had to start the evening off with a slow dance, and they'd finish it that way, too. As the band struck up a slow, morose number about moving on and leaving home, every student stood - every member of every house, taking the hand of someone else, just to dance one of the last dances of the night. So many couples crowded the floor that it was making Hermione a tad claustrophobic, until Draco wrapped his arms tighter around her and let her head rest on his chest.

"I love you, Hermione. I really do."

"I love you too, Draco." As she raised her face to his, and he captured her lips, Hermione saw the events of the last year past through her mind - coping with the war, starting this year, freaking out over Draco being Head Boy, their walk in the snow and that awkward first hug, their first kiss on Valentine's Day, the months of dating and coming out into the public, Harry's approval, and that ending to Draco's speech - something she'd never in a million years expected - and falling madly, hopelessly in love with this tall, blonde Slytherin man that she'd never expected.

And after nearly twenty years of hiding behind books and cleverness, Hermione Granger finally made a decision, effective immediately. She was going to put down the books and quills, move to London with her amazing boyfriend, and really just... live, for the first time. As they separated and he smiled down at her, she couldn't help but feel the corners of her mouth turn up as well.

* * *

He was dancing with Lavender, and they were laughing and reliving their terrible relationship from sixth year - the nicknames, the displays of affection, all of it.

"I threw a fit because you'd said Hermione's name in your sleep. I'm not sure anyone ever told you."

"They didn't. You shot daggers at me with your eyes for months, and I had no clue. Funny how things work out."

"Exactly. I saw you made it into Merlin. I didn't even think you'd apply."

He grinned, reliving the thrill he'd gotten when he saw he'd been accepted into the University. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. His mother had wept and shouted when she saw him after graduation, talking about how proud she was and how happy she was that he was her son. It was a rare, beautiful moment - one he'd remember for quite some time.

"Yeah. I was really surprised. Did it on a whim, not thirty minutes before the deadline... everyone's been really pleased."

"Well, I'm proud of you. It'll be nice, I think. You can study harder at Merlin, really show them what you're made of. I know you're smart, somewhere deep in there. You just have to show it."

Ron felt himself blushing. Someone had just called him smart? Well, that was new... "Thanks. And you're going as well?"

"Mhmm. Studying the stars - I've always wanted to, and they have a program just for it. Astronomy and Astrology together. Divination included."

They chatted as the music wound down, dancing still. They'd all grown up a bit. It was nice.

* * *

The band packed up and left, and the students were all dispersing, heading to their various dormitories. Draco and Hermione, quiet and holding hands, walked ahead of the pack towards their quarters. A few Ravenclaw boys eagerly discussed their chosen courses at Merlin. The oldest Gryffindor students - including Harry and Ron - were clearly heard singing the Hogwarts school song at various tempos, at the top of their lungs. Arm in arm they wove through the hallways, up the staircases, forward.

* * *

**AN: :( No. Ugh. Okay, some people may not like this. BUT. I'm going to do it anyway. I'm not going to include an epilogue. Instead, I'm going to post things directly below this that pertain to the sequel - everything I would have published in an epilogue anyway. And in good news... the sequel will be up in the next month, and I already have a chapter or two pre-written, so it's all waiting and lovely. For those of you who have followed this fic through, THANK YOU. It was my first attempt at a real, full-length fic, and it exceeded my expected word counts - and expectations. But it's time for an end of Part One. The sequel, which will be titled Merlin University: Freshman Year will continue starting on August in the timeline, as students at Merlin U and Hogwarts graduates that are choosing other paths move into new dormitories or begin new jobs, really moving into the circle of adulthood and enjoying it immensely. Expect a bit of the classic goodness - fluff, silly things, drama - and some new bits - the usual college experience, parties, harder classes, etc. It's been great. Thank you. All of you. Please review and look for the update - though I will post a chapter to alert you all when I post the first chapter there. Cheers!  
**


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